Love to Break Free
by Littlemixup
Summary: All her life, Marinette had been told she's a freak for having the power of creation. That she's all alone. But when she's moved from her cell to another, she finds she's not quite as lonely as she'd been told. Friendship, romance and trust blossom between her and her cellmate, Adrien, as they work together to try and break free. However, Gabriel Agreste has other ideas.
1. I'm Me

**Hey! Thank you for reading this story! I'm really excited to write this as I love the idea. If the words are badly punctuated/a bit erratic, they're meant to be like that to show the madness in Marinette's mind. After all, she's been in that cell for quite some time haha! **

**Anyways, comment if there are any suggestions you'd make or if you're enjoying the story:) Happy Reading!**

I'm not going crazy.

I know that.

They told me that I was when they chucked me in here, saying I was a freak, that I shouldn't be allowed in Paris, that I truly belonged in this cell, all alone.

But I think they're lying.

I'm not sure how long I've been here for now. I used to count the days, but after two long years I've stopped. Every day is the same: waiting, waiting, waiting. Hoping that someday I'll get out. But the chances of that are slim.

At the back of my cell, there's a window. A small single pane of glass that I can press my outstretched hand against. It's the smallest of windows, but it gives me the biggest of hope. I often look out at Paris, admiring its beauty wistfully, letting my mind wander about the world out there.

But I'm not crazy.

I'll get out one day.

For now, until I manage to think of a plan to escape, I'm going to have to stay here, crouched in the corner of my empty prison cell, thinking.

I stay there, leaning against my four walls of 'home' for long periods of time. Sometimes, hours, sometimes days, without sleeping. The only thing that brings me even the slightest bit of comfort is my magic. By magic, that's what I think it is, though I'm not really sure. I've heard whispers in the middle of the night that I'm some sort of mutant, but I don't believe them.

I stare at the palm of my hand and close my eyes, focusing on the beautiful sight that I've seen so many times. I find the feeling of wonder and hope from inside myself and feel the warmth it brings to me, sensing it as it travels from my chest down my arm and into my hand. I open my eyes to see pure white light spiralling and curling upwards from the centre of my hand. As the light swirls in breath-taking wisps from my fingertips, small ladybirds burst from the light and flutter away from my hands, some landing on the floor next to me before fading slowly, some flying in circles before gradually becoming dimmer and dimmer. I smile sadly at them as they fly and crawl, knowing that I brought them to life but I'm so weak with tiredness and hunger I can't get them to stay. In a way I understand. They're just enjoying their lives, but only getting a taste of it as it's so cruelly taken from them. My thoughts drift back to my memories, like a broken record player, on constant repeat. I can't help a silent tear that trickles down my cheek and lands with a small splash on the floor.

"Food, 367. Get it now or go without. Get over here!"

My eyes instantly widen in fear as I scuttle over to the door, which has been opened just enough for a small food tray to be shoved through with force. It skids across the floor and collides with my kneecaps. A sharp pain sears through my bones; however, the guards ignore my protests, my pleas, my cries of agony. Then again, to them, I'm just a number. Not Marinette. That's my name, at least it was a while ago. It's been so long since somebody has used my name. I suppose it's also been a while since I've spoken to a real human, someone with real feelings, not like the guards who wait on the other side of the door.

Many times, I've thought about the possibility of escaping when they open the door for food. I even tried it once. Nothing prepared me for the armed soldiers on the other side, guns ready, poised to shoot the freaks like me who spend their time cowering inside our metal chambers of isolation. So, I gathered that leaving wasn't an option.

Instead, I sit.

I wait.

I think.

Sometimes cry.

Sometimes just stare at the uniform cream bricks of the walls that leer over me, daring me to try and break out.

I curl up into a ball and hug my knees. Loneliness is the only other thing that lives in the cell with me. It's always there, the only thing I see, hear, talk to. I talk so I remember I have a voice. That no matter what anyone says, I still have a say. No matter how many numbers they put to my name, I'm not going crazy.

I'm me, Marinette, and I will escape.

Somehow.

(_Time jump to the next morning_)

"367 UP! NOW!"

A startling voice and a hammering on the iron door of my cell jolts me from my sleep and I sit up from my position on the cold floor. Of course we weren't given beds. That would make us human.

I shake off the stiff pains in my neck and run to the door, which is flung open, letting two soldiers walk in. Both are tall and muscled, one with olive skin and dull grey eyes that glare at me, the other with a wider frame and black hair except from a blond tuft above his forehead.

"Gloves, Ivan," the thinner one reminds his companion, who quickly slips gloves over his hands and eyes me warily.

I'm not stupid. I can see them tighten their grip on their guns, the distrust in their eyes. Of course they don't want to come near me. For what they think I can do. They immediately look me up and down in disgust before throwing a pair of filthy black gloves at me.

"Put them on. We don't want to be affected by your little tricks," one of them spits at me.

Now, I'd love to protest. I'd love to scream at them, tell them they're wrong, that I'm not that bad. I'd love to scream so loud cars could crash and windows could shatter and oceans would roar and the walls of my cells would crumble.

But that wouldn't do anything.

People are too small minded. They have fear as an instinct that floods their systems when they don't understand, rather than accepting people like me. They're scared. I was too when I found what I could do. But one day, they'll see I don't mean to hurt anyone.

Next thing I know, I am being dragged down cold corridors that twist and turn this way and that. I have no idea where they're taking me. Maybe, after all this time, they're finally going to kill me. Whatever it is, it can't be any worse that keeping me from speaking to other people in a cell all by myself. When we eventually reach the doors, the bright daylight is too much. I have to squint as I'm thrown onto the concrete path. I quickly stumble to my feet and shudder as the icy wind whips around my feet. The basic cotton dress they gave me is not very warm, believe it or not. I look around me in wonder.

And then I realise.

I'm free. I'm outside.

I want to absorb this moment, unscrew my head and take out my brain to absorb the fresh smell of the air, the noise the wind makes as it whistles by me, the sounds of the birds chorusing to each other as they soar through the white clouds. I want to relish this moment as if it's all I have.

And it is.

Before I have a chance to run or leave or escape, strong arms seize me by my waist and carry me to a purple van with the symbol of a purple butterfly I've seen before emblazoned on it, not flinching when I struggle. I'm thrown in the back and I hit my head of the floor as I land. A sharp pain steals into my head and I'm sprawled in the back, sobbing as the world around me bleeds in and out of focus. Just as I think I can pull back and focus, the darkness wins, and my whole world turns to black.


	2. Beautiful Building with a rotten core

**Ok, so this chapter is a bit dark, but don't worry about it, things do get better and more romancey soon! Thanks to all of you who have added my story to your alert subscription- it makes me more determined to keep writing. I'm always writing more, but if I don't post soon it's because I'm saving chapters for when I can't write as often.**

**Enjoy:) **

I knew it. I knew this was too good to be true. That's the thing about being trapped under the menacing law of Andre Bourgeois, especially when there are people like his daughter, Chloe, the one who condemned me to this fate of locked cell doors and life away from all humans.

It turns out, all they did was move me.

"We're moving you somewhere where it'll be nicer," they said.

"Where there are people like you," they said.

I know a lie when I hear one. I'm dragged back out of the van and forced to stand up. With a guard either side of me, I'm escorted to the doors.

The building I'm brought into looks quite harmless from the outside. Its walls are made from uniform slabs of bland grey concrete that stay, unmoving, unblinking, in neat rows. The concrete framing the grand wooden doors is simple and precisely sharp. Everywhere I look, I can see how much money and time has been spent on making this place look as extravagant and innocent as possible on the outside.

It sickens me.

I'm starting to believe them, that it could be nicer than before, when I'm pushed through the doors.

Never trust a beautiful place with a rotten core.

Now, I'm more scared than anything.

I'm so terrified I freeze on the spot, and I try, I try to scream for help, but my voice catches in my throat. Like someone is strangling my throat, my brain, my whole body, I can't do anything. Fear crawls from the floor and climbs up my body, festering inside my head until I'm scared senseless. I don't even realise that I'm crying until the guards shout at me.

"Save the waterworks for the best part 367."

Oh, at least they're using my name.

"Keep moving. Let's go."

And so, I'm being forced to walk through these halls of misery and terror. In front of me winds a long corridor to which I can't see the end to. The lighting is so dim, like all light and hope has been crushed from the walls and sucked from the inhabitants. The walls have been painted white years ago, and as I walk by my movement causes flakes to peel from the wall and fall to the floor, which is littered with rubble.

"Right on time, I see," a new voice, a male voice, says from behind me. I spin my head around to see a tall man with brushed back platinum blond hair and glasses. He looks pristine in his cream suit and black trousers, but there's a hint of danger in his eyes. That, I sense.

"Welcome, Marinette."

I am in shock.

"My name is Gabriel. We hope you enjoy your stay with us here, you'll find we've given you a cellmate. No, sorry, a roommate."

He smiles but his eyes don't.

I think I'm about to pass out.

Kindness? I'm almost tempted to laugh in his face and tell him to stop being nice to me. Since when was that allowed?

"If you'll please follow me."

We follow him as he briskly strides through the corridor, unflinching at the decay that is taking place around him. As I walk, I see tall oak doors lining the corridors. They don't scare me; it's the noises from inside that do.

I can hear the sound of hysterical laughter rippling from one door. Just as that quietens, I hear heaving sobs erupting from another room. Trying to shake off the noises, I keep walking, pacing, one foot forward, one foot forward. Just keep on going.

I hesitate and listen.

Crane my neck. Hope it isn't.

But it is.

I can hear the screaming.

Agonised cries, screaming and screaming until I think they can scream no more. And then they scream again. An ear-splitting, lung-bursting cry for help. I shiver as every hair on the back of my neck stands up.

A roommate, he said.

A roommate like this?

He said my name. He said my name. It'll be nice here, I tell myself. I think I must be lying.

Nevertheless, I keep following my host down into the corridor. After what seems like miles, we reach the end, the last oak door. I listen carefully, but inside seems to be deadly silent. A small part of me if filled with relief. I turn to face Gabriel questioningly.

"Yes, your roommate is already in there. He arrived here a few months ago because he did a very bad thing," Gabriel begins, a twisted smile playing at his lips. The look of confusion on my face must have been evident because Gabriel starts to laugh. A cold, merciless laugh.

My insides turn to ice.

Gabriel looks at the guards, who begin to laugh too. I don't find this funny at all. In fact, I'm quite terrified.

My world plunges to below zero.

"In fact, the reason your soldiers started treating you with more caution is because of the him," Gabriel continues, sneering.

I look down at my gloved hands. Then at the gloves of the guards. That's why they think I'm dangerous. Suddenly I feel like everyone is part of one big joke, one which I'm not privileged enough, not human enough, to understand. Right now, I don't want to laugh, I want to cry.

I want to curl up into a ball and be miles away, back home.

And then it hit me.

This is my home.

What I do next is very strange indeed. I speak.

"Wha- what did he do?" I ask, trying to stop my voice from trembling.

Gabriel leans in close to me, his eyes fixed on mine. It's like he can read the fear in my mind, like he can feel my emotions as if they radiate off of me.

"What did he do, you ask. Nothing much really, my dear," he pauses, and just as I sigh in relief he speaks again.

"Your roommate, Marinette, killed somebody."


	3. Tears of decay

**Sorry for the pause but here's another chapter. I've had some amazing comments on this story recently, and they mean so much to me. Thank you to DearestMrIcarus, Kidakame2, MiraculousFAN and other guests who have given amazing comments, I really appreciate it! Hopefully this chapter is up to your standards, let me know what you think! :)**

This is it. This is the worst it can probably ever get for me right now.

Let me give an update on my life these past few weeks.

I'm locked in a cell in a place for freaks and crazy people, brought outside under the illusion that I'm going to be set free, only to be shoved in the back of a van.

Oh, and let's not forget the part where I am brought to a place that looks like it's been built based on every single horror movie put together. To top all of that off, I'm roommates with a murderer.

If I ever get out of here, I will never have a 'bad' day again.

After Gabriel tells me about my new roommate/cellmate, I gape open mouthed at him, trying to process everything he just said.

He pays no attention to me, nodding to the guards.

"Kim, Ivan, put her inside," he says icily before turning swiftly on his heel and striding back down the corridor and out of sight.

The guards fling open the wooden door to reveal another iron door, which is scratched and scraped. Another attempt by Gabriel or whoever owns this place to block the 'troubled' from view. I stand, waiting for them to let me in, throw me in, shove me through the door, my stomach doing backflips and twisting itself into knots. By now, my heart is thumping so loudly from somewhere inside my mouth I'm so apprehensive. They open the iron door with a creak and push me inside the door.

And I'm chilled to the bone.

I want to leave.

Now.

I'm standing at the entrance to what I think is meant to be a cell. But I don't know because there's nothing but soot and ash. The room seems as if someone has filled it with gas and threw a lit match inside, and yet I get the feeling that not even a wisp of smoke from a fire has been anywhere near this room. The walls are corroded and breaking, in black chunks that crumble from the wall as I look around. But I don't see my cellmate.

All too soon, before I'm ready, I hear the slam of doors and the laughing of the guards as they leave me, abandoning me in this chamber of decay that is filled with crumbling flakes of iron, and a murderer.

But where is he?

I edge cautiously further into this strange and terrifying room. With every step, I'm watching, waiting for something to happen to me. Something bad. The thought that this is now my new home makes my heart stop. The thought of being imprisoned with a murderer who is probably cold and heartless and mean and ruthless and cruel and bloodthirsty and...

Blond. He's blond.

He's also sat in the corner of the room next to what resembles a burnt mattress, but he doesn't move, doesn't flinch when I enter, not even when the door slams. With his head resting on his knees, he looks strangely... peaceful.

But I know not to get close to him. So, I slink over to the other corner of the room and carefully sit down, trying to blend into the background. It's now that I survey the room properly.

This is where I'm probably going to spend the rest of my life. In this cold and lifeless prison with someone who has killed before. It's now, that I don't even feel that I'm able to amuse myself how I would've before, with my magic, or even talk out loud to myself, because there's a slight chance that the blond boy sitting opposite me right now will kill me for it. Literally. And as I look around properly, I finally understand how all the hope and wonder has been sucked out of this place, little by little, and I think it's taking effect on me too.

So, I cry, because it's the only thing left to do. I cry in big heaving sobs, letting go and not caring. So many tears stream down my face I'm surprised I've managed not to drown. My hands go over my face and I sob and sob to end all of the pain and misery I've endured.

Eventually, I open my eyes, which feel sore and puffy, and I nearly scream in shock. The blond boy is kneeling in front of me, head cocked on an angle. He's staring at me.


	4. Tales of Isolation

**Hey everyone! **

**I'm so sorry for the late update, there's been quite a lot going on with me lately so I haven't had time to upload any more. But thank goodness for stockpiling!**

**Also, if you're a huge fan of the love square that is MLB, read ****20 questions**** by DearestMrIcarus. It's an amazing story and you'll all love it.**

**So, here we are, another chapter. Let me know if you enjoy!**

I gasp and wipe at my eyes.

"I- I'm s-sorry," I say, my voice still shaking from crying, "I- I'll be quiet. Please don't kill me."

He says nothing, does nothing. Doesn't even move. I'm beginning to wonder whether he even heard me, or whether I even spoke, when he jumps to his feet and hurries back over to the other corner of the room where he resumes his earlier position. I steal a look at him whilst he can't see me.

I don't know what it is, but something inside of me snaps. Whether or not I'm broken, or I've just been fixed and the cogs in my head have been set back into place, I do not know.

That's enough.

If they're going to put me in a cell with another person, then I'm going to make the most of it. This boy, murderer, whoever he is, I don't know him at all, and so I need to find out more about him before I judge who he is. Internally, I reprimand myself for being like everyone else. All those people who called me a freak, a mutant, a psychopath who should be locked away for the good of everyone else, they never made the choice to get to know me. So, if I can save someone else from suffering the same fate as me, I'll certainly try.

Because I remember that I have a voice.  
And I'll use it until my last breath to help.

I get up and steady myself, before walking over to where Blond Boy is huddled, and I kneel down in front of him, just as he did to me. I stick out my hand, hoping to come across as friendly and as human as possible.

"Hi, I'm Marinette, what's your name?" I ask as sweetly as I can, to try and mask the terror in my voice that's seemed to set up a permanent home in my brain these days.

He freezes. Looks up.

Wow... Blond Boy has startlingly green eyes. But they're too familiar to me. When I realise where I know them from, it destroys me inside. This is the look of fear and terror, of loneliness. My eyes. Or at least, every emotion I've felt these past few years built up inside two emerald green eyes. He still doesn't say anything, but he takes one look at my outstretched hand and panics, backing into the corner of the room. Strangely, the wall around him seems to blacken and crumble, the iron near him starts to collapse. Once more, he meets my eyes, and this time I see pleading. Begging me to sit down, imploring me to stay away.

Maybe Blond Boy doesn't speak. Maybe he does, and just doesn't want to be my friend. Maybe he's just already decided that he hates me. It wouldn't make him different from anyone else, so I accept it. All I know is if I want him to be friends with me, or at least civil to me, I have to just keep myself to myself. I withdraw my hand and return to what we have seemed to silently established is my corner of the room. Lord knows what we'll do when it comes to deciding on the mattress.

Silence is just beginning to seep back into the room again when we both hear the rattle of a doorknob. I spring to my feet eagerly, but when I glance over at Blond Boy, he seems to shrink further back into his corner. I've hardly time to contemplate it before the door is flung wide open once more and Gabriel walks in, accompanied by a new guard I haven't seen before.

She's wearing black jeans, a simple black t-shirt and has long brown hair with two shorter strands at the front. She stands next to Gabriel, arms folded, and smiles at Blond Boy. But I see something is off. Her smile is too big, too perfect, too fake. I instantly wonder what is going on. She uses her index finger to gesture for my cellmate to come to her.

"Come on Adrien, let's go," she says, winking at him.

I may not have been around real people for the last few years, but I'm surprisingly good at working people out. And I can see how much Blond Boy doesn't want to leave. It's like he knows too much, way too much. Gabriel steps forwards.

"Come with Lila please, you know the procedure," he says, a warning tone in his voice.

To my surprise, he stands up and follows her out the door, without a look back. When the doors are closed once more, I get up and walk around the room. Is that the last time I'll see Blond Boy? Did they call him Adrien? Was that his name?

Now that it's just me, I can properly look around these four walls of corrosion and soot. I reach out and touch the wall with my fingertips. Some of it peels off under my light touch and falls to the floor. But how, why, is it this way, I ask myself. Frustrated with my lack of knowledge about this room, I ignore my thoughts and sigh. When I look up, I smile. I smile because although I have left the familiarity of my old cell and have been thrown into this new, unwelcoming one, there is still one thing that's the same.

A window. A small single pane of glass that I can press my outstretched hand against. Just like before. I run up to it and press myself against the wall, trying to see as far as I can out of it.

The view takes my breath away. Clearly this new place is in a more beautiful part of Paris that I've never seen before. We are surrounded by luscious green trees and baskets full of flowers, each one a different vibrant colour. Ahead of me, I see a brilliantly crystal blue river, winking as the rays of the sun bounce over it's surface. It's sparkling, brimming with life, and it's utterly picturesque.

I stare at the outside world until I can stand no more, so I walk over to the burnt mattress and gently sit down on it. Running my fingers gently along its surface, I can't bear the thought of me or Blond Boy lying on this every night for the rest of our lives. So, I stand up and flip the mattress using all my strength, hoping the fire has only burnt the one side of it.

But I'm wrong.

Now, I'm surer than ever that whatever happened to this place was no accident, that this supposed fire was not one of flames.

The other side of the mattress is equally as dilapidated as its reverse side. I groan in exasperation. At this point, the floor looks like a better option, at least it has less soot and more rubble. I stare at the mattress for what seems like hours, trying to figure out how to make the situation better.

I have a crazy idea. Really crazy.

But it just might work.

I've never tried this before. I have no idea what I'm doing, but I'll try to do the only thing that I know how to do. Magic.

Kneeling at the front of the mattress, I spread my palms on the rough material and concentrate. I stay completely still and focus. I don't know what I'm focusing on, but I keep my eyes closed. Maybe if I move my fingers and... no.

Levels of frustration slowly increasing, I stand up and try again, repeating everything I was doing.

Nothing works.

This is ridiculous. I've no idea why they insist on locking me up, first alone, then with a murderer, and now all alone again, because they think I have a magic that I can't even get to work. Any hope I had left before is now gone. So, I curl up on the mattress and hug my knees. Eventually, sleep grips me and invades my mind, taking control of my body.

I'm not sure how soon after it is when I'm woken up.

Still hazy from sleep, I sit up and glance around my cell to try and find whatever it is that's causing the noise. I have no idea how oblivious I am when the door slams loudly, making me jump and blink several times, all traces of sleep gone from my mind. Blond Boy is back, to my surprise, sprawled on the floor and trying to stagger to his feet. I sit cross-legged on the mattress and watch him. Truthfully, I admit that it isn't the most helpful thing to do, but I didn't think that anything was immediately wrong.

Until he turns around to look at me.

I jump up from my place. It's like all of a sudden where I'm sitting is teeming with red hot electricity, my legs full of energy, the urge to get up and help.

Every part of him is covered with gashes and bruises.


	5. Loneliness with company

**Hey! **

**I apologise for the length of this chapter, I know it's not the longest but if I do shorter chapters it means I can update more regularly and you won't be left on the painful cliff-hangers for very long ;) Thank you so much if you've been reading from the beginning and are still here haha, and also thank you to those lovely people who comment frequently! Without further ado, chapter 5...**

Desperate to help him, I rush over and reach out, but he shuffles backwards.

"Don't," he begs, voice shaking. When I don't move, he tries again.

"Please."

"It's ok. I promise I won't hurt you," I say gently, smiling at him, "are you ok?"

"Yes," he says. Too quickly. Too hastily.

He talked to me. That's better than nothing, so I decide not to push any further. Moving across to the window, I see that the sun is glowing golden as it begins to set, spilling out its light generously across the Parisian buildings. There's a steady beam of light that's shining through our window. Our window. Huh. It's strange, using that word again after so long. I close my eyes and feel its warmth on my face. I can imagine it being expelled from the sun, flowing down from the sky in a trickle of light and making its way to our small window, where it knows it's needed to brighten our cell, our lives, our view. I make another decision; I don't care about overstepping the mark. I turn to Blond Boy, who is still touching his new wounds and wincing in pain, unaware he is being watched.

"It's beautiful out there, isn't it," I comment, watching his reaction closely. He follows my gesture and realises I'm talking about the view from the window. I can see him look wistfully outside, recognising the expression I've worn too often.

"It's a cruel reminder to me," he replies sadly, joining me at the window

I turn around once more to look at him, not realising he was standing next to me. This is the closest I've ever been to him, I realise. Despite his current state, I see that he has bright green eyes that are filled with depth, and slightly tanned skin. His hair is golden blond and tousled. I don't believe he could've killed someone. At all.

"What is it?" he asks, and I painfully realise that I've been frowning at him.

Then the most unfamiliar thing happens. I feel my face burn with a blush and have to look at the floor.

"Nothing, it's just... it's nothing. Do they come around to tell us to go to sleep here?"

He pauses, thinking for a moment.

"I don't think so. I'm normally asleep by now anyway, I don't usually have company," he explains.

I'm taken aback. Here I am, having a normal conversation with a person, a real, living, breathing, feeling person. And, one that hours ago wouldn't come near me. But I also realise that I've invaded his room, stolen his mattress to sleep on and kept him awake. So, I timidly fix my eyes on the floor.

"I-I'm sorry, you can go to sleep if you like. I'll be quiet."

He frowns at me, but it seems painful for him, and he groans in pain, his finger lightly brushing a particularly bloody gash on his face. Unable to leave him in pain, I try to help.

"Are you sure you don't want me to..." I begin.

"No!" he half shouts, swatting my hand away, the look of terror rushing back to his face, greeting his features like a well-known acquaintance. I give a small gasp, taken aback by his tone, and retreat to my end of the room.

"You can have the mattress," I mumble quietly, before curling up on the floor and using my hands as a pillow as I try desperately to go to sleep.

I don't see Blond Boy open his mouth as if about to say something. I don't see the pained look on his face as he drags the mattress over to his side of the room. I don't notice as he glances up at me again before he lies on it and goes to sleep. I don't see a thing.

As I lie on the cold and corroded floor, waiting, hoping, for sleep to take hold of me and bring me into its warm embrace, I think. Just like I used to. I think of my old cell, strangely missing its familiarity. It's only now I realise how much I liked to be alone.

Because I hadn't talked to someone else in almost 728 days.

And now I have, I feel more lonely than ever. The feeling is slowly beginning to eat away at me, gnawing at my insides and devouring me slowly until I'm left completely and utterly empty. I've got no friends, no magic, no bed. I'm isolated, my own pawn on the elaborate board game that is life.

But I'm still not going crazy.

I'm Marinette.

And I'm going to break free.


	6. Do nightmares ever heal?

**Here's another chapter for those of you who are so eager to find out what happens next! I'm so grateful for all of the lovely comments you've been leaving. **

**Thank you to Nieka2000 and DearestMrIcarus, who have been amazing as always!**

**Hope you enjoy, let me know if you are :) **

It's the middle of the night.

At least, I think it is.

But my eyes snap open suddenly, woken by a spine-chilling noise.

A blood-curdling scream.

From many rooms away, the noise pierces the silence of the night, stealing into our cell and replacing the quiet. I sit up and hug my knees. I'm filled with nostalgia, remembering my childhood nightmares of black speckled butterflies haunting me as I slept, and how I would wake up crying in floods of tears. I remember how my mother would come into my bedroom and sit at the end of my bed. She'd tell me how everything was going to be fine, just fine, and how these things will get better. If I just see that it's a nightmare. My own imagination deciding to plague me. I feel like that little girl now. Except these screams are real.

How I long for her to be here now.

I wish that she would come and tell me now that everything would be ok, that it will get better. Because I need to hear someone say it. Anyone at all.

The screams keep on going, but I keep facing the wall. I don't want to turn around, I don't want to face the direction the noise is coming from. I don't want to be here at all. Eventually the screaming dies down, but I hate to think what is being done to quell it. Banishing the thought from my mind, I lie back down, determined to sleep again, when my ears sense a new noise. A quieter noise.

Crying.

This sound is closer to me, so I give in to the temptation and turn around.

Blond Boy is sitting up on the mattress, knees brought close to his chest, his whole body convulsing with each sob.

He's looking out of the window.

A shaft of moonlight is shining through the window and onto his face, illuminating the tears streaks on his cheeks and the cuts on his face and arms.

I'm filled with questions, so many questions, and my head if drowning in them as I try desperately to stay afloat. I want answers.

And the only way to get them, is to ask.

I walk over to him and sit down. He won't get rid of me thins time. He can shout and scream and punch and kick and protest, but I'm not moving. I'll help him, whether he wants it or not. His eyes are closed, spilling tears down his face.

I'm filled with unbelievable emotion. It injects itself into my veins, burning and rushing through my blood like a wildfire, igniting my soul until I feel like I'm on fire. This has never happened before, but the immense power gives me control. Stability. Clarity. I can feel the urge to help him root itself in my body, blossoming and flowering, making its way back through my chest and into my arms, down into my fingertips, pooling into the palms of my hands, an undying fire that I need to quench. And somehow, I know exactly what to do.

I reach forwards and press my hand on his bare arm. At which point he stiffens and turns to me, mouth wide in shock. He's waiting. What for?

But he follows my eyes to where I'm looking in amazement at what is happening. From where I'm touching his muscled arm, a white light spreads from under my hand, covering him. It's so blinding and pure, we both shield our eyes with our free hands, until the light has subsided and faded out. I snap my eyes back to his arm and lift my hand.

We both look at his arm. Astonished.

All the cuts and bruises have vanished.

I've healed him.

But I'm still desperate to see if this unbelievable power will continue, and I do the same with his other arm. A brilliant light envelopes it and when it dies down, the gashes are gone. We look once more at each other, and I look down at my hands, filled with determination. I can do this. I look back from my palms to his face and back again. I press my palms together and feel their combined warmth spread throughout my body. It's now that I focus on the need to help heal him. Closing my eyes, I pull my hands slowly apart, using every ounce of strength in my body. I open my eyes and at the same time face my hands towards his face. White light floods from my hands and caresses his face, each stroke rinsing his skin of cuts and bruises. My hands begin to shake violently with all of the power they are exerting, until there is no more light, no more scars, and no more emotion. I drop my hands into my lap and breath heavily, strangely tired.

When I've regained my breath once more, I look up to see Blond Boy's reaction, and I nearly jump out of my skin. He'd been running his fingers along each arm and along his jaw in complete disbelief, and then he is looking at me. I smile comfortingly, or at least I hope I do. I'm beginning to doubt myself, however, when I realise, he's gaping at me. I'm not sure I understand. But then it clicks. Blond Boy has no idea what I'm capable of. And to be honest, neither do I.

**Also, a** **special thanks to Katiebug73x, Carlipedia, KaliAnn, Spideyfangirl123, Star-The-Writer and T'Lai, who have all commented recently. I really appreciate all of your support! **


	7. Confessions of a murderer

**Thank you all for your wonderful comments so far! I hope this chapter is good enough, and I'm really sorry if it isn't. There might be not enough description, but let me know if you think it's alright! **

I think we're both still trying to comprehend what I've done.

But Blond Boy looks a lot more shaken than me.

"Are you ok?" I ask, worried.

I think he's frozen. Or dead. Or paralyzed. Or all of the above. Just as I start to panic, he moves his mouth, as though rummaging through his brain to put together a coherent sentence.

"I- you... how?" he stammers.

"What do you mean?"

"How did you do it?" he asks.

That's a good question. I don't even know if there is an answer.

"I just wanted to help you. Honestly, I don't know what happened," I reply, equally as confused. There's so much I want to ask, so much I want to know. But I'm just lucky we're having a conversation at last.

"I'm not talking about that," he says, eyes fixed on my hands. Now I'm panicking. Does he think I'm a freak now? Millions of panicky questions swarm into my mind, clouding my judgement of the situation.

"What?"

"How did you touch my skin?" he asks.

It's my turn to pause. What on earth is he talking about? I think about answering but he must decide he doesn't want to know.

"Never mind."

Another long pause between us, both with so much to say, both with so little bravery to do so.

"Thank you," he says, looking at the floor.

"It's ok," I reply bluntly as I clasp and unclasp my hands. He seems slightly less uneasy around me now, which in my eyes is a step forward; however, his questions do unnerve me a little.

"I'm Adrien," he looks at me and offers a small, tentative smile.

"Marinette," I reply, smiling back. Feeling braver I try another question, "why were you crying?"

Adrien looks embarrassed and rests his hand on the back of his neck.

"You saw that, huh?"

"Yeah."

"It was nothing," he says. I'm sure he's lying. I see it in his eyes.

"It can't be nothing," I say indignantly, "no one cries over nothing."

"Fine. Why were you crying earlier then?" he replies.

I contemplate lying to him. It crosses my mind ever so briefly, and the temptation is nearly enough to make me do it, but I eventually settle on the truth. The real truth. I don't know why it's so hard for me to say, but I think it's because if I admit it out oud, I'm admitting it to myself too. I sigh, giving in.

"Why? Because I've been imprisoned for 728 days and have never spoken to a nice human all that time, and then I finally get moved here with you, hoping that at last I can have one friend in this whole insipid world. And then I try to talk to you, and you don't even want to talk to me back," I gush, not realising that I was holding that much back.

It feels surprisingly good to tell someone what is going on. It even surprised me as to the burden that I was carrying all this time. Adrien is unable to look at me again, and he turns away. I feel like we're just moving in circles.

"It's not that," he finally says.

"Then what is it?" I ask, intrigued to find out what it was that was stopping him from being nice to me. There is an uncomfortable silence.

"They told me you were a psychopath."

I almost laugh out loud.

"They told me you were a murderer."

Silence. It's deafening at this point. I shift, uneasy.

"I'm not crazy. I'm also not a psychopath, if it makes you feel any better," I say, giving a small laugh.

A tear falls down his face and he meets my eyes. His expression is scaring me. A lot. In fact, it's chilling. I don't think it's one my brain will soon let me forget. It's a red-hot metal pen, tap tap tapping at my memory to ingrain his expression there forever like a scolding tattoo, burning deep into my soul. In a voice that's barely above a whisper, he speaks.

"But I did kill somebody."

I don't really know what to say at this point. My first instinct would be to panic and leave as soon as possible, but there's something about him that suggests there's more to him than meets the eye.

The more I think about it, the more I realise that if I was in his place, I'd want someone to give me a chance. After all, I don't really know what has happened. I can tell that he's waiting for me to shout at him, ask him why he's such a monster, what he was thinking, was he happy now. So instead I shuffle around to face him directly and he faces me with scared eyes. Petrified eyes.

"I'm not going to judge you."

"Y-you're not?" He sounds incredibly unsure.

"I promise. After all, we're both in here for a reason. But I can't fully understand unless you explain to me. Is that ok?" I reply.

Adrien closes his eyes.

"I was fine, normal, for the majority of my life, until I turned 13. I don't know what it was, but on my birthday, I touched one of my presents, and it seemed to dissolve under my fingers, turning to black dust. I was absolutely terrified. I didn't know what to do. From then, if I touched something with my hands or fingers, whatever I touched would crumble or rust or break," he explains. I listen, enticed and more curious than ever.

"I didn't tell anybody about it. I guess I just figured it would go away. But it didn't. So, I started wearing gloves and always covering up my skin so no one would find out. This worked most of the time. But when I was 15, I was careless, thinking that it might have gone away, thinking that it would be ok," he continued, looking at my reaction. I'm lying on my back hands either side of my face, trying to work everything out. My mind is swimming in possible reasons and ideas and theories to how any of this could be possible. Adrien doesn't see it this way.

"It's awful isn't it," he sighs, running a hand through his hair, "I know, I'm a monster."

I sit up straight and sigh. Is that what he's been made to think by everyone else? I feel so immensely bad for him. He needs reassurance. I put my hand on his shoulder, cursing myself for being wary of touching his skin.

"N- no, you're not a monster at all. You can't let yourself believe the things the people out there tell you. What do they know? We know who we are, and as long as we stay true to that, that's all that matters, ok? And... for someone who thinks they're a monster, I'm not scared at all," I say, grinning.

"Why did you look so scared then?" he asks, still not completely sold.

"I wasn't scared. I'm just... freaked out. Not by you. It's just... on my 13th birthday, I saw this girl who had fallen over on the path. She had cut her knee and was crying. I went over to see if she was ok, and I wanted to help really badly. So, I touched her knee to try and see how much pain she was in, to see if it was ok, and it healed. She pushed me off her and started to scream. I fell back onto the grass behind me, terrified, and the grass started to grow like crazy. Everyone around us saw, and they started to shout at me," I say, tears welling in my eyes as the painful memories flood back into my mind.

"Then what happened?" Adrien asks gently.

"They said I was a freak, a weirdo, someone who should be kept in an asylum, a mutant. And I tried to tell them. They were all screaming at me. _What are you doing? Who are you? Someone take care of her! Someone phone the police_!" I cry, too lost in my own memory, to deep in my tragic past to immerse. I'm sobbing now, "And I tried! I tried to tell them. _I'm sorry, I didn't mean it, I don't know what happened, I'm sorry!_ But no one listened to me. So I ran back home. I was so scared. I didn't leave my room for ages, until my parents forced me to go to school. I was so terrified and on edge, strange things always seemed to happen around me. A girl in my class, Chloe, got me sent away, to my old cell, where I've been until I moved here," I finished, head resting on my knees that I'd brought to my chest.

There is silence between us. Neither of us quite sure how any of it works. And then I remember I was so wrapped up in my own tale of woe I didn't hear the end of Adrien's.

"What happened next, when you were 15?" I ask quietly, head still resting on my knees.

"I was so careless, so stupid, thinking it was just bad luck and some weird thing that had randomly happened to me. That there were exceptions. I kept thinking that it would only ever happen to objects and that people couldn't rust or break, so it would be fine. It wasn't fine. At all. I didn't think about it and forgot my gloves. And... and..." he broke off, too overcome with emotion to finish.

I decide not to push him. So I wait. Ready to listen, if he's ready to talk.

"And I killed someone. By touching them," he whispers.

"Who was it?" I ask quietly, voice as sincere as I can muster.

"My mother."


	8. The explanation

**Hey everyone! **

**Sorry I haven't updated in a while, I've just recently realised what little time I have on my hands haha! I've loved reading all of your comments and I'm grateful everyone is still reading! Hope this chapter is ok. **

Time stops. Everywhere freezes. And I'm suspended, lost in time and space, trying to hold onto pieces of what I thought I knew.

Adrien killed his mother.

Just like that.

But when I look at him, I know he didn't mean it. He couldn't have, he couldn't mean it. Could he?

"How?" I whisper, instantly blushing for being so rude and outright, but he doesn't seem to mind the question. If anything, he seems glad to get it off his chest.

"My parents were away on a business trip, and when they came back, well, I ran to greet them. I was so stupid... I should've thought, I should've seen. But I didn't. I hugged my mother, Emilie. And it all happened so fast. I heard my father scream, and my mother, she just... froze. Her whole body turned to black ash and she crumbled to the ground. I tried to find some other explanation, but it was me. It was my fault. My mother is dead, and it was me," he said, tears welling in his eyes.

I don't know what to do. Do I comfort him? Leave him? It's now that I wish I had more time speaking to other people. One of the many downsides of being locked in a cell for years. But he doesn't seem to be finished.

"I've learned to get over that. My father pushed me away, brought me out of school. I was so alone. The loneliness... it was so overpowering. This is going to sound crazy but," he hesitates. Looks at me. I smile and nod, letting him know it's ok to talk to me.

"Sometimes, loneliness is the only other thing that's living with me. It-"

"It's always there, the only thing you see, hear, talk to," I finish, staring at the wall. Unfortunately, know exactly what he means. Being locked away, there's a part of you that's imprisoned too.

My thoughts drift back to my old cell, and the feeling of the first few nights there. I sat in the corner, trying so hard, too hard, to stay together when all I wanted to do was fall apart. I'd been handcuffed and shackled and thrown in a cell, imprisoned there, stuck with my shameful thoughts, murderous thoughts, a prisoner inside my own head. I clung to the bars of my life as I begged to be set free, but my mind wouldn't let me. Instead it played the same moment on repeat, like I was spinning on a roundabout, stuck to the seat so I had no choice to sit and endure the sickness.

Eventually, the loneliness took on an ache in the pit of my stomach, groaning and jolting, a painful reminder of hunger and memories and desperation.

So I know how Adrien feels.

A glimpse of understanding passes between us.

"I-I'm sorry about your mother," I say, "for what it's worth, I'm glad I was able to heal you. And I don't think you're a murderer."

Adrien gives a short laugh.

"Well, I sort of am, but thanks. And... I'm sorry I didn't talk to you. You know, I've no idea why they told me you were crazy," he says.

I'm not crazy.

"I'm not crazy," I confirm, trying to tell myself as well as him.

But I realise he makes a good point. Why were they so determined to pit us against each other from the beginning? Were we supposed to be scared of each other? It was all probably part of our punishment, to be so terrified to the point of us going insane.

Because sometimes, just sometimes, company can be so much lonelier than solitude. If I'd been asked this morning, I would've said that was true. But now? Every new friend we make, each one represents a world inside us we never knew we had. And being locked in here, my whole world was crumbling slowly at the seams. But now, meeting Adrien? I finally feel like a new world inside of me has been born. And it can only grow.

"It was probably to scare us," I think out loud, "I hate this place already."

I survey the room with my eyes, picking up every crack and flake in the walls, every inch of dust littering the floor. Suddenly, I'm reminded of what woke me up in the first place, and I want to know if Adrien heard it too. Just to know if I'm really going insane. Which I'm not. I'm not crazy.

"The screams... th-they-"

"Never stop. Just keep on going. Until you'd rather be the one screaming than hear them a second longer," Adrien affirms, eyes full of sorrow.

They look like they're going to overflow, tears of sadness are going to burst from them at any moment and we're both going to drown and I can't swim, I can't float, I can't swim, I can't swim. And I'm drowning in his eyes, their endless green glinting in the light of the moon. A shiver races down my spine as more screams pierce my ears, igniting my memory. They echo off the walls, gliding into the room. Unfortunately for me, Adrien notices.

"Are you scared?" he asks.

Yes.

"No," I reply, "I'm just cold."

I can't tell him how terrified I am, how I'm scared to death. Because my fear scares my too. It's like being caged up with a monster, waiting for me to show weakness so it can pin me against a wall and kill me.

"You don't feel it after a while."

"What? The cold?"

Adrien meets my eye. Emotions flash through them, but they finally rest on a knowing gleam to his eyes.

"I know fear when I see it."

I sigh. Of course he understands. He's been locked up in this place longer than me for the murder of his own mother. He understands fear. I say nothing to him. Instead, I think. There is still something that doesn't add up.

"Adrien?"

He too is deep in thought, but he vaguely puts his head in my direction.

"Mmh?"

"How did I touch you?"

His head snaps up, eyes alarmingly wide.

"Think about it- the last person who did, they..." I pause, not sure how to phrase it. The silence is enough for him to know what I mean, "so h-how did I?"

I watch him bring his hand up to the back of his neck and look at the floor. My mind whirrs, trying to think of any explanations, but that's all it seems to be doing.

We need to test it.

"Let's try it," I say.

I'll let myself touch his skin, knowing that if it goes wrong, I could die.

But I'm ready to try.


	9. Can you keep a secret?

**Hi!**

**I'm so sorry I haven't updated in forever, school has decided that it hates me and would like to give me too much coursework. **

**I'm working as hard as I can on this story when I have time, so please let me know if you're enjoying it!**

"Are you crazy?!"

Adrien is goggling at me like I've just suggested flying out of the window backwards.

I'm not crazy.

Or maybe I am.

After all, I've talked to no one but myself these past few years. And the thing about insanity is it doesn't infect you like a vicious plague, it's much more subtle. It steals into your heart and takes the time to know you personally. Maybe after being locked up for so long with the burdens of my past, I've gone insane from many hours of horrible sanity.

So what if I'm crazy after all?

He knows it's risky. I know it's risky. But I want to know what happens.

"Maybe I am," I answer, smiling.

But my joke doesn't seem to have had the same effect on him. Adrien shrinks back into the corner, backing slowly away from me as if I'm walking on ice and at any moment it's going to break beneath my feet, and I'm going to fall and touch his skin.

"No. No, no you can't. I can't- I won't kill someone. Not now I know what I'm capable of. Marinette please!"

There is an edge to his voice. One that I don't expect.

I consider ignoring him and attempting anyway, but after quiet contemplation, I think that it's best to leave things. After all, I'm very happy now, having had a conversation with him. A real conversation. With a real human!

"Ok, I won't. I'm sorry," I apologise, holding my hands up to show him I've backed down. He seems to be pleased, or at least relieved, so I walk back over to my side of the room and curl up on the floor. Adrien still has the mattress, but I don't mind. I've never had a proper bed for so long, it would almost feel alien to have one now.

I don't remember falling asleep when I wake up in the morning. I'm startled at first, but I rub my eyes and sit up.

There is a small beam of light that has managed to sneak into the cell, but it looks out of place amongst the charred walls, an outsider to the melancholy atmosphere that is living in the cell with us. I listen for birds, cars, people, outside. Anything telling me that there is life somewhere beyond this dismal institution.

But I hear nothing.

I wonder how much has changed since I was last properly in Paris. I realise my cellmate has been here a lot less time than me, so he must have some idea, I glance over at him.

Adrien is still asleep, sprawled on the mattress facing the wall. I stare at the back of his blond head, a strange calmness residing within me. He looks so peaceful, whilst he's asleep.

Sleep, the only chance we have to escape. To break free from our lives, our problems, our stress, for a few glorious hours and hide from them, until we eventually wake up with enough strength to face them. Sleep is never just sleep, it's a powerful escape, taking us under its cloak of invisibility and providing refuge until we're ready to face the bitterness of reality, the icy jaws of living.

I stop thinking. Sometimes I just want my mind to quieten and come to a stop, so that the wheels of my brain can come to a halt and I can just exist, and let it be just that.

For a while, I revel in the silence. No screaming, no voices in my head, no people.

Nothing.

Adrien rolls over on the mattress but he remains asleep.

Unfortunately for him, it doesn't last much longer.

They don't knock. Don't even announce themselves.

Gabriel flings the doors open and I watch as Adrien is forced to wake up. In behind Gabriel comes the girl I saw yesterday. I think her name was Lila. As if she's part of a routine I'm not aware of, she beckons to Adrien, who barely moves to look at her, his disinterest apparent.

"Morning Adrien. I do hope you slept well. Are you coming?" she asks, voice sickly sweet. She acts like he has a choice. Like he could just opt out if he fancied, like he could tell her he would rather relax in captivity for today.

It makes everything worse.

Adrien meets my eyes for the first time today. I reply with a concerned look.

Gabriel steps forward, deciding enough time has been wasted.

"Adrien, this way please," he says, voice devoid of emotion.

"You know it's what your mother would want you to do," Lila chips in.

I actually gasp out loud in shock. I can't believe she just said what she did. How dare she?!

Lila and Gabriel turn their attention to me.

"You can't say that!" I burst out, an edge to my voice that I instantly regret.

I don't know how to register what happens next.

Lila laughs at me, amused that I dare to speak out, to use my voice and protest. As if she is meant to take my point seriously.

When she has finished mocking me, she narrows her eyes in my direction and her lips twist into a grin.

"Unless, of course," she starts, pivoting on her heel slowly to face Adrien once more, "you'd like your lovely cellmate here to take your place? Would you like that?"

Adrien looks at me.

I look at him.

I try to offer a small smile, to tell him that it's ok. That I wouldn't mind going if he couldn't.

Instead, he stands up and comes closer to Lila.

"Leave her out of this. I'll come if I have to," he growls, before joining Gabriel at the door.

As they all begin to leave, I race to the door to try and follow them, to help my new friend, but I find someone waiting for me.

"Oh no. You've got to stay here. Know your place here, 367," Lila snarls, voice low and warning. She kicks her foot out and manages to trip me over, so I fall to the floor. She pulls the door closed, but before she does, she locks her eyes onto mine, her features unmoving. She slowly brings her hand up to her mouth and rests her finger in front of her lips.

I get her message.

Tell anyone, and things get a lot harder for me. And for Adrien.

Her cold laugh echoes off the walls as she leaves, and I feel a sharp pain sear through my knee. I groan in pain and look at where the pain is coming from. I must have cut it when I fell to the floor. A drop of scarlet blood trickles down my pale skin, leaving a red trail in its wake. I take this opportunity to make something very, very clear to myself.

I hate Lila.

Undoubtedly.

In fact, I'm so angry I can feel it, an angry red fist inside my stomach, wanting to punch its way out. Pummelling the inside of my stomach repeatedly, trying to break free. The anger boils my blood, sending a rush of emotion to the palms of my hands, where I press my hand to my cut knee and watch as the familiar white light reaches out its ethereal fingertips and strokes the blood away.

It's the most peculiar feeling that fills me. It's a feeling like no other, it's a cup full of water and I'm dying of thirst, I want to drink it in, savour it, tuck the feeling away into my pocket and retrieve it whenever I'm in need. I never want this feeling to end. When I realise my cut has healed, I lift my hand away from my knee. But where the anger and fulfilment have gone, a new feeling floods into my system.

Empowerment.

Determination.

I'm so determined to see what else I can do with this power, see if there are limits, condition, rules, boundaries.

And I can start by doing what I couldn't before.

I face the mattress, fingers spread on its surface and almost straight away, I can see the black beginning to crumble away and the corner of the mattress slowly returning to its former white state, a limp and lifeless corpse that is being pumped with life. There is a war raging over it, one between the dark and the light. The light is winning, striking down the darkness and enveloping it. It's a war where there are no casualties, a war where good will triumph, a war where-

"Argh!"

The door is thrown open and Adrien is flung back into the cell.

He's gasping in pain and clutching his side.

I jump up from my position and rush over, offering to help him up, but there is a new depth to his eyes, an intensity that scares me. So I back off.

Eyes wide and alert, he scans my body, a panic-stricken look etched into his features, making sure that I'm ok, that whilst he's been in agony I have gone without harm. And I have no idea why.

As our eyes meet, I see him wince, and stupidly, I realise for the first time he looks how he did when he returned yesterday. His face is bloodied and bruised, a trickle of blood running down his neck. I shudder, imagining what sorts of torture they put him through, and what on earth they were doing.

But I know I can help him now.

"A- Adrien, a-are you alright?" I ask, cursing myself for not being able to say a full coherent sentence without stumbling over my words.

"Yes, don't worry about me. Are you ok? Did they hurt you?" he replies, his eyes betraying his expression.

My mind is cast back to a few hours earlier, when I had fallen. Do I tell him? About Lila? My mind is a container full of ifs and maybes, dos and don'ts. It's in turmoil, until I look at the pain that has been inflicted on my friend, the scars that torture has left on his face.

I don't want to make that worse.

I suspect that Lila is dangerous, and I have no idea what monstrosities she is capable of, so I decide it's best to keep it to myself. After all, it isn't really my secret to tell.

Is it?


	10. A Cell Full of Sunshine - part I

**Heyyy! **

**Hope you are all well, I'm once again very sorry for the lack of updates, I think this is how it's gonna be from now on. Maybe a couple of updates a week? **

**In this chapter, there will be a second part, which is nearly done, so don't worry, it will definitely be released soon. **

**Thank you so much for all of your comments on my writing, it's great getting feedback!**

"Marinette, did they hurt you?" Adrien repeats.

"What? No, they- I mean they... no. They didn't," I manage to confirm with a somewhat believable tone.

Some of the tension in Adrien's shoulders relax and I offer a smile, trying to make him feel better.

"Look! Whilst you were gone, I tried to test my abilities, and see what I could do. I've never done it before because I was always scared to. But now, I can try. Watch," I begin excitedly, standing and facing the mattress like I did before, but this time I'm sure I can do it without making contact with the object.

I focus, like I have many times. And this time, the light coming from my hands isn't in small feeble swirls, it gushes from my skin in glorious waves, cascading over the mattress and removing every ounce of decay and rubble from its surface. As it occurs, we both gawk at what I'm doing in disbelief. I don't think I've ever seen something so beautiful in my life. It's amazing... it's miraculous.

When I'm satisfied I've done my job, I relax my hands and marvel at what I've done.

But my triumph is short lived.

I have no idea what happens, and I don't know how to explain it.

Everything is suddenly too much. The black of the wall is too dark, advancing on me, closing in ever faster, the white of the mattress is too bright, too pure, too startling, threatening to blind me. The silence is too loud, screaming, blaring, screeching, overpowering me as a high-pitched buzz sears my ears. My body feels limp with fatigue, the energy pooling out of my body like I've been shot in the chest. My limbs are weak, so weak I crumple to the floor. And I'm falling. Falling.

But he catches me.

His strong hands are on my back and I'm in his arms and my world has been dragged from an icy sea of unconsciousness. He's the only thing I can see and he's talking to me. He's trying to tell me something. I need to listen.

"Focus on me Marinette. You'll be ok. Please be ok," he's saying.

I can hear him. His voice has a blade and is slicing through the buzzing, trying to make its way to my ears.

So, I calm my breathing down as Adrien talks to me, trying to keep me conscious. All the time, I keep my eyes locked onto his, just in case I lose control again. I feel so unbelievably weak and exhausted I can hardly move, but I feel him rest me slowly on my back.

How long this lasts I don't know, but when I can think properly once more, I sit up slowly, but freeze as soon as I do, clutching my head. Everything is spinning. The world is a snow globe that has been shook up and everything is swirling around. Adrien sees my movements and he puts his arm around me, trying his best to steady me as I sway. I panic at first, wondering if he knows that he is touching my bare arm, but when I see his hand, I see that it is covered in material. Confused, I turn my head to see he is sitting on the mattress next to me, topless.

He has put it around his hands.

So he doesn't kill me.

Thoughtful.

"Hey, hey, it's ok, you're ok," he assures me comfortingly, smiling, "I've got you."

I close my eyes to trying and block out the aching of my head, and when it has subsided for a moment, I open them. And gasp.

My head had drooped and now that my eyes are open, I see what had him convulsing in such pain when he arrived.

The side of his torso is dominated by a huge gash that is red raw, and I can see the blood surrounding it. It looks excruciatingly painful, and now that I know about it I can see the agony that flashes in and out of Adrien's eyes.

"Wha- what happened to you? Let me help-" I whisper, my own voice hurting my head. I move my hands towards him to help.

But Adrien carefully moves out of my way, making sure he is still holding me all the time.

"No! No... I mean, I'm, ahh," he grunts in pain, the sudden movement making is side twinge, "I'm fine. Really."

"But I can help you," I protest.

"I used to deal with worse long before you got here. It's ok. I'm ok. Honestly," he says, eyes boring into my own.

I look sceptically at his wound. There is no way he can possibly be the slightest bit ok, but I also imagine the number of other cuts and wounds he will have to had to deal with alone in here. It immediately makes my stomach lurch with sorrow and guilt. I survey the rest of him, and find myself blushing. It's the first time I've properly realised that he is shirtless. He has broad shoulders and has feint muscles. His skin, besides his bloodied side, has a naturally tanned glow, like his face. I blush even deeper when I realise how perfect he is. Another fifty shades when I realise he knows I'm looking at him.

"So," he says. I can tell he's trying to make conversation.

"So," I echo, cursing myself for being so stupid.

"What do you think happened? Did you know you could do that?"

"I... no. I had no idea," I realise out loud. Wow. I really didn't know. What did happen. Every other time I've ever tried that, nothing so terrible has ever happened. Apart from being imprisoned for the next two years. But that's irrelevant.

Three more seconds of awkward silence.

"Do you think you can stand up?" Adrien asks me, giving me a worried glance.

I hesitate. Take one deep breath and let it out.

"Yeah, I'll try."

I'm independent. Or I like to think I am. All I know is that I do not want to be one of those female characters in books that are dependent on the hero to save them and do everything for them. That's not me. So Adrien lets go of me gently and I get to my feet, holding my head to stop it from jolting whilst I do so. But my legs are made of paper, my bones constructed from paperclips, and the paper crumples and the paperclips are scattered in a pile on the floor and I crumble to the floor once more. My head is whirling and it's on a rollercoaster but I'm suspended in a frozen reality.

**Apologies for the sort-of cliffhanger! Leave a comment letting me know what you think or just what you think will happen next...**


	11. Sweet Dreams - part II

**First off, I'd like to apologise that I didn't post yesterday like I said I would, but I thought it would be easier for all of you if I posted it this morning. **

**I want to thank DearestMrIcarus for helping me come up with some of the ideas for this chapter. It wouldn't have been the same without his input! **

**Also, Adrienette4live, LyraMaeArcher and Emily, thank you so much for your lovely comments. Emily, if you're reading this, thank you for your idea, I will most certainly be using it next chapter if that's ok ;)**

**Enjoy! **

Like it had almost been planned, Adrien catches me once more as I fall, and his carefully covered arms support me as I gaze up at him.

Huh.

Maybe the girls in books don't have it too bad after all.

Adrien's face is centimetres from mine as he holds me, and I can see every deep fleck of green as they dance in his enchanting eyes. He flashes me a smile and laughs slightly.

"Ok, so maybe not," he says.

I smile faintly, too mesmerised to say anything else. I internally scowl at myself. What's wrong with me?

"Maybe not," I say.

The moment lingers in the air a while longer, both of us savouring the feeling of holding another human, someone who isn't scared to death. An equal.

But Adrien eventually sets me down on the mattress with great care. He tells me I should try and sleep, that I will probably have regained my energy by tomorrow. Happy to oblige, I shut my eyes, listening to his footsteps as he walks to the other side of the cell, and I hear him sit down.

Then the silence.

It's deafening, blinding, too powerful, ruling the cell with an iron fist. But I won't let it take control. I will rebel against the silence and speak. Because there's no way I can possibly go to sleep. Not after everything that has happened today. I want this silence to be a good silence. I want to close my mouth and talk to Adrien in a million silent ways. I want our hearts to entwine and be one, understanding each other in the deep quietness of our confinement.

Silently, I turn my head and steal a glance at Adrien. He's sitting with his head on his knees, running his hands through his hair before looking at his side and nursing it with his fingertips. As soon as they make contact with his wound, he gives a small yelp in pain and bites his lip. Realising he made a noise, he looks over at me, at which point I pretend to be sleeping.

When he turns away, I open my eyes once more and decide to speak to him.

"Adrien?"

"He looks up, but I'm still facing away from him.

"Yeah?"

Another five seconds of silence.

"Thank you," I say, smiling although he can't see my face.

I hear his voice from the other side of the room and I'm so relieved that he can't see me blushing.

"You were going to fall. I couldn't let that happen."

I can hear him coming closer.

"No, I mean for going instead of me today. I should've gone. I'm sorry," I mumble.

I'm genuinely sorry for having to let Adrien go through everything that he has without knowing what has happened, and I want more than anything to make it up to him.

There's no reply.

He answers in footsteps, gradually getting closer, louder, closer, but I don't dare to turn around.

And then he's lying down next to me, eyes locked on mine with an almost happy glimmer in them. It's such a contrast to his face, scratched and bruised. I try to smile at him, and he grins back at me. I survey him, noticing how he is lying on his non-bloodied side.

I still don't understand why he won't let me help him.

Other than the fact that he has the potential to kill me.

"Do you know why I went today?" he asks me, grinning as he knows that I have no idea.

"No, why?" I ask breathlessly, pulse quickening.

Adrien shifts uncomfortably on the bed, breaking eye contact and bringing his hand to the back of his neck. He does this a lot, I've noticed. He looks up at me, not moving his head.

"Marinette, I've been so alone for so long. Everyone knew what I was capable of, including me, and every time I came near someone, they'd look at me, and all I would see was pure fear. I wasn't ever able to talk to anyone," he explains, voice soft and gentle, tickling my ear he's so close. His voice is so calming.

"But then you arrived. And you weren't scared one little bit," he pauses, takes one deep breath, "Marinette when I'm with you... I don't feel like a monster anymore."

And just like that, my frozen heart melts.

It's made of ice and the sun has just peeped out from behind the clouds. I used to sit in my old cell, staring at the beams of light that would filter in and out, knowing I was never close enough to touch them. Regardless, I used to try and try and try, but one day I just gave up, asking myself, can you really feel the sunshine if it doesn't brighten your life?

Our cell is full of sunshine, it's seeping through the concrete and melting my heart my mind my soul. A tear slips down my cheek. Nobody, no one at all, has ever said anything so lovely to me in my whole life. I've waited so long to be around another person, and I couldn't be happier that it's Adrien. He's watching me with a soft expression, touched that what he says means so much to me. I give him a watery smile.

"You are the furthest thing from a monster in the whole world. Believe me. In fact, if I had to be stuck in a cell with someone for the rest of my life, I'd definitely pick you," I reply, tears brimming in my eyes.

In the next moment, I decide to tell him something incredibly personal. Something I haven't thought about in a long time. Because back then, I didn't have any dreams left, none at all.

Now, the flame of hope inside me has begun to flicker slowly to life.

"I think," I begin, "one day, we'll get out of here, and we can live in Paris like everyone else. We'll live next to a park and a river where the sunlight catches on the water and the birds fly past and the tips of their wings stroke the surface of the water. We'll live next to the bridge where the lovers will stroll past and put padlocks onto its beams. God, I'd love to break free," I sigh wistfully, imagining my uncertain future. Adrien shakes his head at me and laughs. It's the first time I've seen him laugh in all the time I've known him.

"How do you do it?" he laughs, "how can you be so sure we'll not be stuck here until we die?"

I shrug and reply with a smile, before cupping my hands around my mouth, about to tell him a secret. He laughs at my gesture, knowing there's no one else to hear us.

"Sometimes, all that's necessary for the triumph of evil is that good people do nothing. And whether they like it or not, we're the good ones. I'm going to find a way to get us out of here. I promise," I tell him. And it's true. No matter what, I'm going to do all I can to find a way out of this cell, for both of us.

"Wow," Adrien replies.

"Wow what?" I furrow my brow in confusion.

Adrien's face cracks into a grin, but I don't miss the slight expression of pain that flashes through it.

"Did you just make that up?" he asks me, amused.

I blush and try to pretend that I hadn't been thinking of it for the past few minutes.

"No," I lie.

Something tells me I'm not awfully convincing.

"Good, because it was awful," he exclaims, laughing at my shocked expression before winking playfully.

I shake my head as I laugh.

"You're jealous," I retort.

"Me? Jealous? I could've come up with something way cooler."

I fold my arms, raising my eyebrows.

"Oh really?"

"Yes, no need to look so surprised," he says, making us both laugh, "what about this: hope is eternal and can't die. All it needs is some action from us."

"That's basically what I just said but with different words."

"Ah, but way cooler words," he jokes, giving me a cocky grin.

We spend the rest of the day there on that mattress, talking away the hours. It has been one of the first times both of us have completely relaxed around each other, and it feels so good to just let go for once in our lives. To just pretend that for once, we aren't locked in a cell away from the rest of humanity. To put reality in a box and pack the lid on tight to stop everyone and everything that's hurt us from crawling out and making us face them again. To just press pause on time and sit in our own little vacuum of nothing, revelling in each other's company, and the new friendship between us.

As time passes, I'm beginning to realise how much I like Adrien. The biggest hint of all is my incompetent stuttering. Every time I do it, I curse myself repeatedly, but I can't help it. Every time I talk to him my heart does backflips and my tongue ties itself in knots and my mental voice starts to sing, drowning out any rational thoughts. Everything I could say is spelled out in letters on a scrabble board and someone flips the table, sending letters and syllables flying in all directions. And suddenly it's nearly impossible to talk to him without my heart fluttering.

He's the only person who's never judged me for being who I am, the only person who accepts me for me, realising that I'm a human too. It's refreshing.

Adrien, he's like a breath of fresh air. A single coloured flower in a black and white mural. A drop of water in a vast desert.

We talk until it goes dark, until the sun has broken free from its prison of clouds and vanished as the moon unleashes an army of stars to take over the sky. So completely unaware of time, we don't realise that it's gone midnight until I see a shaft of moonlight has made its way through the window and is casting its pearly glow on the floor.

"What about you?" I ask, still engrossed in our conversation.

When there's no reply, I study Adrien's face. His eyes have drifted closed and his breathing is rhythmic and heavy.

I do not smile fondly at his sleeping head.

I do not whisper goodnight and think about reaching out to gently touch his golden hair.

I do not realise how bad I am at lying to myself...

Maybe I do.

Sighing happily, I roll onto my back and stare at the charred ceiling, thinking of how incredible things are right now. It's the best feeling in the whole world, finally watching things fall into place for me, after having to sit alone and watch them crumble for so long. And it's all thanks to Adrien. A yawn escapes my lips and I am unsuspectingly engulfed by a tiredness that I seem to have been supressing. Deciding to go to sleep, I carefully roll over to face Adrien, but unfortunately, I wake him. His eyes open slowly and focus on me. He smiles wearily.

"Sorry," I blurt. Adrien smiles again in reply.

"Goodnight," I say drowsily, closing my eyes.

I'm drifting off to sleep when I hear Adrien's weight shift on the bed and the spring of the mattress creak. Opening my eyes, I see Adrien is lying on the floor, trying to make himself comfortable.

"What are you doing?" I ask as I sit up.

"We can't both sleep on there," Adrien says, sitting up too.

"Yes we can."

"Not if there's a chance that when we're both asleep I accidentally brush your skin and you die."

"That won't happen," I protest. But Adrien doesn't care.

"I don't want to take that chance," he replies firmly, settling onto the floor.

I must be more visibly upset than I thought, because Adrien flashes me a comforting smile.

"It's ok. I promise. Goodnight Marinette," he finishes, closing his eyes a final time.

I do the same, using my hands as a pillow to rest my head on.

I've forgotten how comfy beds are. Before I know it, I'm lost in sleep, dreaming. It appears I've also forgotten how amazing dreams are too. It has been my first real dream in the longest time. Dreams illuminate the night, and give you hope for when you wake up in the morning. For in dreams, we emerge in our own paradise, where we can do anything we desire.

I'm standing in the middle of the world that's coming to life around me. Flurries of ladybirds flutter in clusters around me, leaving a trail of life and beauty in their wake. Trees sprout from the earth, luscious leaves growing from the bark; building and structures repaired to their grand selves. Everywhere I look swirls of glossy white light streak the sky.

But something else is happening.

Thunder and lightning send ear-bursting crackles across the clouds as they shroud the sun, choking the light from it and drinking every last inch of blue from the sky. Rain showers down from above, cascading onto the street. I squint, trying to see through the misery, and I can just make out the outline of a blond head a few metres away. I try to run towards him, but a bolt of purple lightning exits the thunderous clouds with a sickening crack and pierces the ground just in front of me and I'm blinded for a second. I try to reach him. No matter how hard I try, I can't move. I can't run. I can't move. When I think it's over, the clouds open up further and a swarm of black butterflies with luminous purple stripes pour from the sky in vast numbers. They infect the air around me, making it so hard to see as they surround me, envelope me, getting closer, closer all the time. I try to warn Adrien. Tell him to run, escape. But he doesn't move. I think I'm screaming with so much panic my lungs should have burst open. Another bolt of lightning strikes the earth, this time right in front of Adrien. I search for him. He's gone. He'll come back. He'll always come back.

The clouds roar, the sky exploding in a blast of black butterflies and I look up and gasp. There's a thief in my chest that has stolen my breath and I need it back. They've been into my brain, and I've been robbed of my thoughts so that I can't think.

Two eyes through the clouds.

Lila towers over me from her godly position in the sky, laughing, snickering, cackling, howling. At me. When her laughter ceases to reverberate through the clouds, she fixes me with her icy stare, mocking me as if I amuse her. She presses her finger to her lips, winking cruelly at me.

It's at this moment I look around frantically and realise that Adrien is still nowhere to be seen. But I'll give it a minute. He's not gone. He can't be gone.

I'm watching.

I'm waiting.

I'm aching.

Suffocating.

I'm breathing.

I'm worrying.

Terrified.

Can her hear me?

I'm screaming for him.

Louder. Louder.

I jolt upwards from my sleep, beads of sweat lacing my forehead. I close my eyes, so glad I'm not trapped in that awful world anymore. I'm panting heavily, mostly with relief that what I just experienced wasn't real. I look frantically around for Adrien, making sure he's there. Everything is different from my dream except one thing.

The screaming was real.

But I never screamed once.

Adrien is tossing and turning vigorously, onto one side then quickly onto his good one. Sweat is covering his brow too, and strands of his hair are plastered to his forehead. I shuffle to the end of the mattress to see if he's awake. But he's sound asleep. Silent tears are streaming down his face.

Every few seconds he screams.

Unsure of what to do, I play with my hair, knowing that whatever he's enduring in his mind cannot be pleasant at all. I pause as he freezes for a moment.

"NOOO!" he screams, catching me unaware. His scream is so pained, to real, so loud, I fall from where I'm balanced on the edge of the mattress and manage to land without touching him.

I have my hands propping me up either side of his torso and my legs are still on the mattress. My arms are shaking slightly as I support myself. I'm inches from his bloodied face, the cuts and bruises less evident in the dark. He flinches again in pain and my eyes drift down his chest to the large gash running along his side. Since he's lying on the floor full of rubble, I realise it will get dirt and dust in it, possibly getting infected. I'm suddenly more awake than ever, so I decide to help him whilst he doesn't know about it. He's been nothing but kind to me since I arrived, so I decide to help, even if it means me dying in the process.

I push myself back onto the mattress and walk quietly over to his other side, where I see the cut is red raw and looks extremely sore. I concentrate on my feelings for Adrien, and some of the fear from my dream that is still lingering inside of me. The familiar ethereal fingers of light embrace his skin, healing his wound with ease. Half expecting him to wake up, I wonder whether or not to go back to sleep and pretend I don't know what has happened. However, to my surprise, he stays sleeping. He seems to have calmed down, but nevertheless, I stay at his side, just until I'm sure he's okay.

I'm just about to leave when he starts to shiver, a little bit at first, and then he crosses his arms in an attempt to keep himself warm. I see his shirt discarded next to the mattress and reach over to get it. I lie it carefully over him.

And stop.

I freeze. Wait.

Did I imagine it?

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I had a lot of fun writing it. Let me know your thoughts!**

**If any of you are interested in MLB Season 3 news, ****Oblivio premieres tonight at 4:30pm on Disney Channel****, and I have seen some amazing spoilers, so make sure you watch it! **


	12. Secrets of the chamber

**Hey! **

**Ok, so apologies for the long wait, but I promise this is not all I have managed to come up with in that time, I've got another 2000 words or so currently waiting on my computer, so the next chapter is nearly done. It will be quite a long one though. **

**Thank you to Emily, who gave me this idea of doing a chapter from Adrien's POV. It fits perfectly with the story, so thank you! **

**Enjoy! **

_From the perspective of Adrien_..._._

I open my eyes.

I'm lying on the mattress in the middle of our cell. But... how?

Casting my mind as far back as I can, I remember talking to Marinette last night. But I slept on the floor, didn't I?

Everything is so warped, like I remember how to piece together half of a jigsaw, but the rest of the pieces have been taken. Blinking the sleep out of my eyes, I stretch, but pause, realising my limbs aren't as sore as I thought they would've been. Especially after yesterday.

I force myself to forget about yesterday. Or at least, the parts without Marinette. Those parts were amazing. But the others... I look down at my side, ready to see the marks left by my disobedience and the scars from my unwillingness to cooperate.

The skin has healed.

No wonder I felt a lot better this morning.

I wrack my brains, and don't think it's possible. She wouldn't have.

And yet, she's the only explanation.

"Marinette?" I look up, moving my dishevelled hair from my eyes.

I'm afraid I'm worrying.

Marinette is sat in the corner opposite me, hugging her knees with her head resting on them. She's awake but unmoving and her bright blue eyes are open but unblinking. I would have studied her porcelain face longer, if her eyes weren't trained on me.

Slowly, I am worrying more and more, her stunned silence speaking louder than a hundred words.

What have I done?

What don't I remember?

Her face is not reassuring me. Because when I look into her eyes, the bright cobalt blue is tinted with fear... no, terror. She's scared. Shaken. Why?

Marinette mirrors everyone who's ever looked at me, her eyes shining like the thousands of others that have glistened with tears every time I come near them.

"Mari, is everything ok? What did I do? Did I hurt you?" I blurt, extremely flustered.

She snaps to attention and blinks at me as though seeing me for the first time. It is apparent I've interrupted her train of thought. Opening her mouth, she utters a single word, her voice barely above a whisper.

"No."

Her answer, so blunt and concise. Almost making me believe her. Almost. I watch as she tucks a strand of her loose blue hair behind one of her ears. I notice how pretty she is. Beautiful.

It is apparent something has happened. Chances are that it's probably me that has ruined everything. Being the monster I have come to know all too well, it can only ever be me that has done something wrong. Others are just wrongly blamed. Like Marinette. I don't believe she would be capable of hurting someone, not as I have. She's so brave and fearless, so kind and beautiful, she's the only good thing in the world. And as long as I'm here? I'm only going to be a danger. So, I need to know what's wrong.

"Then... what happened?"

She draws closer to where I am kneeled, a tear sliding down her cheek. A tear of happiness? I think. I hope.

"Adrien, you didn't do anything. I-it was me," she laughs in between tears. He voice is so soft, so gentle. But I can't let my guard down. Not just yet. I frown at her, eyes wide. Still waiting for the bad news.

"You think that you're a monster, that since you're untouchable no one will ever love you. But... but what if- what if things were different?"

I am extremely confused now. Isn't that teasing, Marinette asking me to think about life without this curse? The curse that as long as I live, will be a bucket of water, putting out any flames of happiness or hope that start to light, dousing the sunlight with darkness, a deep black that is endless, but full of a dark love that I can only look upon from my prison and know I'll never have.

I'm suddenly transported back to a place as dark as that. A recent memory.

I remember a dark room.

Terrifyingly dark.

I remember an artificial blue light that glowed from the corner of the room, making the room look as if it had been painted with a ghostly pale tint. I remember frantically trying to find out where I'd been taken again, trying to see anything I'd missed the previous times. I recall iron beams and bolts and springs and giant wheels that whirred and buzzed at an alarming rate, growling from the dark corners of the room. I never knew what they did, what they were for. I presumed they just enhanced the experience. I remember being strapped to an iron plank, uncomfortably digging into my spine, when I struggled the pain worsened, burning and nipping until I had to stop. My hands were locked into place at my sides by heavy metal cuffs that were chipped and scratched. I was trapped, forced to face up at an enormous steel ball in which I could just about make out my own terrified face staring back at me. I recall flinching as the ball suddenly crackled with energy, a fierce purple lightning zapping and quivering around it, the odd bolt occasionally daring to zip out of orbit and be yanked back by the force of the others.

Most of all, I remember the hooded silhouette that hovered over where I was strapped. Leering over me, exhilarated as if they could stand and I was not privileged enough to.

I was asked questions, so many questions.

And when I didn't answer, they would snap their fingers sharply, the sound bouncing from wall to wall. The spark of bright purple electricity shot from the ball above me and stuck my skin, seeming to seep through my pores and into my blood. Immediately my whole body was riddled with pain, weakness. I knew that I wanted to escape, but the shackles stopped me from moving, and evert time I struggled, the agony that followed compelled me to stop. I remember them asking for answers once more, but I couldn't tell him. I wouldn't help him. I refused to do that to Marinette. I needed to be there for her, so she didn't have to endure the same loneliness I did. I needed to see her again.

I needed to survive.

So I refused. And felt the grave consequences.

The figure produced an iron rod and with a merciless laugh sunk it into my skin. It was then, through this immense amount of unnecessary torture, that I discovered the rod was made from burning metal. I vividly remember it searing my skin, scorching deeper and deeper. I remember me begging for them to stop.

I remember them ignoring me.

I recall the feel and the warmth of my blood as it as seeped out of me. I screamed as they lifted the rod from my side and gaped helplessly at my now blood-soaked side. The figure leant closer to me, and I could just make out their eyes. Cold grey eyes that haunted me as I slept that night, devoid of any warmth and laughter, hardened with rage and anguish. I remember the feeling of my spine standing on end.

I was limp with agony, I could only listen as they whispered to me in a hoarse voice.

"You monster. You can't even do something so simple to save yourself. I'm betting it's for that girl," they sneered, their twisted voice making the hair on the back of my neck stand up, alert and terrified.

I looked at their black hood.

"Leave her out of it," I manage to grunt, gasping at the pain my injury caused.

They gave another cruel laugh. Haunting. Chilling.

"Oh. Oh! How sweet! You love her. Of course you do. A bit cliché, is it not? And you're not willing to save yourself over her. Stupid and dangerous."

They offered me another chance.

After I refused again, they paused.

That's when the unimaginable pain started.

Bursting into every inch of my body, my face, my chest. Cutting further into me with every blow.

But I knew I had to survive.

For Marinette.

**So there we are! I admit this chapter is very dark, but it will make the next one all the better ;) **

**Also, have any of you seen Oblivio? If you have, how good was it?! Aaahh, I thought it was incredible! The kiss scene was everything!**

**Sorry, I had to rant haha!**

**Hope you enjoyed the chapter :) **


	13. When the past is forgotten

**I'm so sorry this took so long to finish. I wanted it to be perfect for all of you since it's such a crucial chapter. I really hope all of you enjoy it as I have had so much fun writing it. **

**This chapter is still in Adrien's perspective.**

**Thank you for all of your lovely reviews so far, I've loved reading them!**

**I hope you enjoy!**

The sheer intensity of the memory is enough to make me shiver back to reality. Marinette is eyeing me with a worried look on her face. I didn't even realise that I had shed a tear until I feel it land on my leg. I sniffle, embarrassed that Marinette had to witness me being such an emotional mess.

But I don't think she seems to mind.

I feel her put a hand on my leg and I look at her, giving a weak smile as I try to reassure her.

"What if everything was different?"

Immediately I feel crestfallen. Back to this again. I'd love to imagine she was right. That things could indeed change and be different. But they will never change. And at this point in my life, hope is a dangerous thing. It is like a silent assassin that is ready to kill you whenever you come out of hiding, thinking it's safe. So I cannot be lured into the light.

"Things will never be different for me Marinette. And I guess I've just got to deal with the loneliness. I've done it my whole life after all," I say.

"No."

She is looking at me, a stern expression on her face. I've never seen her look this defiant before, so powerful and wise.

"No, I'm here now, and you don't have to be alone anymore. I really like you Adrien, and I mean that," she elaborates, shooting me a small, nervous smile.

I like to think that I am far from stupid.

Before I got put away in here, I used to have private lessons from the various tutors my father had grudgingly hired. Because he was trying to keep up the façade that he cared. Because it's what my mother would have wanted. And he would've done anything to avenge her. It also meant I read a lot of poetry whilst cooped up in my room. A lot of R.M Drake. It was the only thing that made me feel real, like I was actually a person. Whilst I was locked away in my own bedroom, the only thing I could turn to were books, and the voices of others merged with the paper through ink. The words of poets became my own, and I often read the same poems so many times I could easily recite the verses word for word. Line for line and stanza for stanza. So many of them remind me of Marinette. Although she has been through so much, and has had so many people judge her, yet she still manages to go out of her own way to make others happy, just so they don't have to go through the same pain as her. She has an amazing gift for making others happy, but she's cruelly locked away here.

_There was a flower in her heart, it just needed more room to bloom. And when she let it free, she showed the world that sometimes the most beautiful things can grow in the darkest of places without the need of light._

Marinette has managed to light up my whole world, there's golden light brimming from every inch of it, my whole world is blinding. She likes me. She likes me!

But of course there's a problem.

A small problem. A catastrophic problem.

My curse, or illness, or problem, or whatever you'd call it.

"Marinette, I think you're amazing, but I need to stay away from you. I could hurt you, or worse. And I couldn't live with myself if anything happened to you, not because of me," I try to explain, wanting to take her hand and soften the blow. However...

She seems rather undeterred, despite my protest. Eyes wide, she presses on.

"But what if there was an exception? If you just hope-"

"I tried hope, Marinette. But I killed my own mother because of it. So I've got to crush the hope before it crushes me and everything I care about," I interrupt, not wanting to put myself through any more explanations or ideas of what could happen.

"But Adrien, what if I'm right?" she continues.

"And what if you're wrong?" I snap, a bit more forcefully than I had intended, "no one has ever touched my skin and survived."

"Because no one has ever tried," she says finally.

I stop and lift my head up to meet her eye, and I see that she's smiling, nodding in an attempt to persuade me.

"There's no way that anything can stay bad forever. Everything will be just fine in the end," she continues reassuringly.

Wow. She really doesn't like to give up.

"And if it isn't?"

"Then I guess it isn't the end, is it? If you don't try, you'll never know. Look, you don't understand right now, but you will," she gives me a mysterious smile.

I falter, cursing myself for being so pessimistic all of the time.

"Do you trust me?" she asks.

"Of course."

She puts out her hand, her dainty palm facing me. I frown, trying to understand what she is doing.

"Then try."

With those two words, everything finally clicks, and I understand what she wants me to do. Maybe she is crazy. Is she crazy? Of course she's crazy! Why would a sane person-

Then I look into her eyes. Properly. She has bluebell eyes, full of honesty and sincerity, not craziness.

_Those eyes have seen so many places and her heart has felt so many things and yet you still smile at the darkest feelings and find expression in everything that's coloured when she's around. _

_She was never crazy._

_She just didn't let her heart settle in a cage. She was born wild and honest, and sometimes we need people like her. For it's the horrors in her heart which cause the flames in ours. And now, it's clear how much she has always been willing to burn for everyone and everything that she's ever loved. _

Gingerly, I reach out my hand and bring it slowly closer towards hers until they are merely centimetres apart. I feel sick to my stomach. She is perhaps centimetres away from death.

Or perhaps not.

What if I kill her?

What if I don't?

My mind is tearing itself into shreds. My brain is a piece of paper that has been scribbled on repeatedly, the same scrawl overlapping and crossing the same point time and time again, and it has just been thrown into a paper shredder. The paper has been chopped up and sliced into tiny strips, each one full of crazy lines that are unable to be restored.

In other words, my whole head is in turmoil.

I stare from my hand to hers and back again. Do I try?

She decides for us.

With a gentle movement, she puts her hand forward so it is touching mine, palms clasped together.

We both freeze. Wait expectantly. I close my eyes and listen for the cries of agony, the screams of death.

They never come.

All I can hear is Marinette's happy laugh as the realisation sinks into both of us. She's giggling in happiness, and she has the most amazing laugh, melodic and gentle. She laces her fingers into mine and beams at me, a look which I mirror.

I can't believe it. I actually can't believe it. For the first time in years, I have touched the skin of another human. And it feels amazing. I laugh out loud in amazement and sheer happiness. I'm holding her hand. I'm actually holding her hand!

"H-how? Why? How did you... in all my life, no one has ever done that before," I breathe, so incredibly confused and happy and a mix of other emotions I cannot yet comprehend.

Marinette smiles at me.

"Like I told you, no one has ever tried."

"I don't understand. I don't understand," is all I can say, my smile beginning to make my face ache with joy.

Our hands are still pressed together. Marinette's fingers are so warm, and mine are cold, like I've been frozen my whole life and only now am I beginning to thaw.

"Last night, I woke up and you were screaming. You must have been having a nightmare, so I sat up with you until you stopped. After you did, you started to shiver really badly and so I tried to cover you with your t-shirt to warm you up," she explains, her genuine caring actions making me smile even wider.

"When I did, I thought that my hand touched yours, but I wasn't sure, so I tried to feel your temperature, thinking you might have been ill. And I'm still here Adrien. Your curse doesn't affect me."

I stare in disbelief. So this whole time, she could touch me and I could touch her, but neither of us knew? I still don't know how it's possible, but I don't care.

"But why you?" I ask. Marinette pauses for a moment, thinking.

"I have no idea. Maybe fate, maybe luck, or maybe it's because we balance each other out. I can create and heal, and you can destroy and, well... kill. It would make sense."

I contemplate what she has said for a moment, weighing up all of the options and reasons. I grin at her.

"I like fate better."

"Me too," she laughs.

Did I mention that at this point our hands are still pressed together, our fingers still entwined? Well, they are! I think we're both just enjoying the company, and the feeling that a normal human would have. Because like it or not, we're not normal. But now we have each other, we don't need normality.

I'm so overcome with happiness, but I have millions of questions, so many things I want to know the answer to.

"I still have so many questions."

"Well, ask away. What do you want to know? We'll figure it out together," Marinette affirms, eyes sparking at me happily.

"If you thought you touched me, but weren't sure, why did you try again? Surely you were worried or at least a little concerned I might, you know... kill you," I inquire, tilting my head to one side.

Marinette pauses for a moment and then blushes, biting her lip. Opening her mouth as if to say something, I notice she takes a deep breath before speaking.

"I don't know. I guess sometimes you can never truly live until you've found someone worth dying for, you know?"

I'm taken aback. Smiling fondly to myself, I realise how much I truly like Marinette. She's... incredible.

"Yeah. Yeah, I do."

"D-do you think it's just the palms of our hands that are immune, or is it the rest of us too?" she asks me, frowning in thought herself.

I think about it. And the strangest thing happens. There's an absence inside of me, but I don't miss the feeling that used to fill that hole. Fear. For the first time ever, I'm not scared to try any more. If there's one thing that Marinette has taught me these past few days is that everything is always worth trying, and if it doesn't work out, at least you know. Ever since she got here, she's tried to give me hope, friendship, life. Even though I denied her at first, she kept trying. She seemed just as lonely as me, and I realised something about her.

_She was broken. I think it was because she loved too much. And she was always blind to the fact that sometimes love too was blind. _

But now I'm not blind, and I can see again. So, with my new vision I shuffle closer to her, our hands touching the floor, but still clasped together. Grinning at her, I lean slowly closer. Our eyes are locked together in a beautiful moment, like we're in a vacuum of nothing but us.

"Let's find out," I whisper.

Cupping her face in my hands, I search her face with my eyes. We both seem to realise that we are in fact completely immune to each other, and as we smile I'm sure I'm about to burst with happiness.

Faces centimetres apart, I gather every ounce of my courage.

And I kiss her.

As our lips meet, I think I've taken her by surprise, as she stiffens. Instantly I panic, wondering if I read her wrong. But I shouldn't have worried. After a moment she relaxes and kisses me back, gentle at first but then with more urgency. With more magic. It's as if all my life there has been a universal blackout, and all of a sudden every light in the world is shining so brightly. Marinette melts into my embrace, resting her arms on my bare shoulders. It's like every ounce of the company I've been missing for so long is being poured back into me, igniting my heart and waking up my soul.

_We are magic. _

_We are moments. _

_We are dreams and _

_we are memories._

_And in the depths of life we swim deeper and deeper _

_to discover that we are not born whole,_

_so we can't be broken. _

_We are born in twos, _

_two halves of the same heart that have been separated,_

_and we are searching, searching for the other piece, _

_that other person to guide us home. _

And I've found my other piece.

Marinette.

As we break apart, we remain with our heads resting against each other. I can't help but wonder how I've gone from not knowing Marinette to suddenly really really liking her. Maybe it's the lack of human contact. Maybe it's something else. It scares me how many feelings I must've been ignoring.

Marinette is giggling to herself, eyes twinkling in amusement. I frown, pulling away slightly from her so I can properly see her.

"What are you laughing at?" I ask, bemused.

Marinette shakes her head, still chuckling.

"Well, for starters, that was a pretty smooth line for someone like you," she jokes.

I exhale sharply in mock outrage.

"What do you mean 'someone like me'?" I ask, pretending to be offended.

"I'm just saying, for someone who's been locked away from humanity for years, that was very well put. I had no idea how much of a flirt you were."

I put on my best serious face and stare off into the distance, trying to imitate a smoulder that I've seen so many times in movies. I think it's more comical than alluring.

"You have no idea," I say.

I meet her eyes and it's enough to send us both into fits of laughter, doubling over as we clutch our sides. We're both out of breath by the time our laughter has died down. I sigh happily, almost forgetting where I am, why I'm here. It's liberating.

"Marinette," I say, the syllables of her name dancing over my tongue. Ok, maybe that's a bit too excessive.

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad it's you," I say, voicing my thoughts out loud.

"Yeah, me too. Although, you have to admit we were doing pretty well at the whole 'don't touch me I'm deadly' thing," she replies with a laugh.

**That night...**

Eventually we decide to try and go to sleep. So, we both lie on the mattress, side by side since neither one of us is concerned about an accidental death in the middle of the night anymore. We're lying quite separately, very awkwardly, extremely quietly. Neither of us speak until Marinette shivers from next to me, folding her arms in an attempt to try and warm herself up.

"Are you cold?" I ask from my position facing away from her. I don't know why I don't turn around. However, it's only after I realise it's a stupid move.

Her reply comes shortly after.

"No, I just have this fetish where I really like to shiver," she replies.

Now I roll over and stare at her. She has a...

"Really?" I ask, genuinely serious. I've never heard of that before.

At first, her expression is serious, but then she gives in and starts to laugh at me, reaching forward to push me in the shoulder playfully.

"Of course not! It's freezing in here."

She was joking.

Of course she was.

Well, I don't think I have ever been more embarrassed in my whole life. Hopefully if I look at the floor I can pass it off as... anything else other than a furious blush.

"You'd think they would at least give us a blanket. You can have my t-shirt if you want," I offer, trying to ignore my own stupidity.

_Way to impress a girl, _I think to myself, _showing her that you think shivering fetishes are real is sure to get her to fall in love with you. _

Marinette is still looking at me with an amused sparkle in her eyes.

"No, it's ok, you keep it."

It's silent again. Quiet but deafening, soundless but roaring. There's this unspoken conversation between us that's dominating the room, both of us so used to being lost in our own thoughts we forget to communicate. The silence is swallowed by the creak of the springs as Marinette shivers again. I sit up abruptly.

"Ok, if you shiver one more time I think you're probably going to die, fetish or not."

I see her laugh quietly under her breath.

I'm suddenly given an idea.

I don't know what it is that possesses me to do the thing I do next. I guess I am a lot more flirtatious than I thought.

As inconspicuously as possible, I shuffle closer to Marinette, hoping my body heat is enough to warm her up. Much to my surprise she doesn't flinch. It's the first time in years that someone hasn't. Instead she moves closer to the frame of my body, curling up so that we can both feel the warmth of the other person.

"Better?" I ask.

"Better," she replies.

Marinette's eyes drift slowly to the window, where we can both see the stars that have spattered the sky. I imagine how far away from them we are, a mere nothing to them from their places way up in the sky. Since her eyes are locked on the window, I gaze at her, looking fondly at the top of her head.

I'm not sure how long I lie there for. I lie until the cell has gone completely dark, and the moon is the only one awake. It's now that I begin to think. I can never make sense of anything in the day, I can never think clearly enough to understand all of the things that have occurred. I think best at night, when the whispers of the world have all subsided and extinguished. When there's no one but me and the moon. And now, Marinette. At night, I often feel like the moon itself: terrified of the sky but completely enamoured with the way it embraces the stars.

I still can't believe that I'm here with Marinette snuggled in my arms, and I'm even more in disbelief that our skin can touch.

No more fear.

No more wondering.

I suddenly notice Marinette's eyelids flicker, and I try to see if she's awake.

"Hey, you awake?" I whisper gently, careful not to be too loud in case she is asleep.

There's a short pause.

"No, why?" she whispers in reply.

"Oh."

I contemplate going to sleep, and then I realise she is kidding and is now watching me, highly amused. I shoot her a sarcastic look.

"You're hilarious."

"Oh, I know. Are you ok?" she asks, meeting my eyes sleepily.

"Yeah. I've been thinking," I answer.

"Oh?"

I nod wisely.

"Oh indeed. Have you ever..." I begin, but I don't really know how to say what it is I've been pondering for the last few minutes. I decide to try again.

"Imagine if our younger selves could see us now. Back when we were first locked up and friendless. What do you think they'd have thought if they knew we'd be here now?"

Marinette ponders the question for a moment, her eyes narrowing in thought. Finally she looks up at me and gives me a small tentative smile.

"If I had known I was going to meet someone like you, it would have given me something I didn't have any of some time ago?"

"Company?" I suggest.

She chuckles, sighing at me.

"No silly. Hope," she finishes.

We smile at each other, our thoughts becoming too private to voice.

A yawn escapes my lips, and I finally realise how late it must be.

"It's late. We should probably try to get some sleep," I start, shifting on the bed to make myself comfortable. Marinette doesn't move, staying in the same position curled up next to me.

"Adrien?" she calls out. Her voice falters in a way that makes me uneasy. She sounds almost anxious.

"Yeah?"

"It's us against everyone out there now, right? All those people who are trying to hurt you. From here on out, I'm always going to be here, and you're not going to face them alone, ok?" she says, some of the confidence returning to her voice.

I smile at her earnest face, looking up at me with beautiful blue eyes. From this moment, I know what she wants. She just wants someone to be there for, and someone who understands her. And I realise that I can be that person.

_I wasn't all there._

_and she wasn't all there either,_

_but we both pretended to be._

_And in a strange way that was good enough for me._

_People are like that._

_They quickly become attached to anything that makes them feel good_

_at any time. _

_Music. Art. Love. Money. _

_Whatever it is,_

_people always need something._

_Something to distract them _

_from the bitter truth, from the memories that hurt._

_Something to distract them _

_from them being themselves._

I cup her face with my hands, rubbing my thumb gently on her cheek. She closes her eyes.

"I know you will be M'lady. Us against the world."

"Always."

**And there we are! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, it has definitely been my favourite one so far. **

**Let me know what you think! **


	14. Of Monsters and Men

**I hope you like this chapter! Thank you all so much for your patience, but I've had some stuff going on which has made it stressful to try and write as well. But your support is greatly appreciated! **

**Enjoy this chapter! **

The gentle patter of the rain against the window stirs me from my sleep. Opening my eyes slowly, I look around me, nearly jumping out of my skin when I notice how close to me Adrien is.

Adrien.

I'm lying next to Adrien!

I immediately tense, not knowing what to do. I can feel his skin brushed against mine, and it takes until I realise that I'm not dead for me to properly remember everything that happened yesterday. Adrien and I, we can touch skin without consequence. And, he kissed me. He kissed me. Adrien. Blond Boy. Kissed me. Me! Marinette. I have to pinch my arm to stop myself from giggling in excitement.

I'm lying next to him, our legs touching. And I still can't believe it. I notice his arm is around my shoulder and I follow it with my eyes to see his fingers are resting on my upper arm, their touch as light as a feather. Managing to supress a sigh of contentment, I think about how safe and certain I feel right now, and I don't even know what it is that makes me feel like this. As I try to figure it out, I stare at him, figuring out the answer after a while. I think it's because for the longest time, Adrien has been nice to me, and he relies on me just as much as I do him. It is refreshing in the best way to have someone depend on you and look at you like they need you desperately. I focus on Adrien once more. His eyes are closed, breathing is heavy as he sleeps, and I try to absorb the moment, because nothing is ever perfect. From my own experience, I know first-hand how dangerous it can be to get comfortable and think that things are going to stay good. In a perfect world, they would. However, in this flawed and imperfect universe, I better absorb this moment. Absorb it and savour it like it's the last drop of sunlight that has fallen from the sun. Absorb it like it's all I have.

If only I could unscrew my head, take out my brain and use it to soak up this moment like a sponge.

A small movement from Adrien breaks my chain of thought and I watch his eyes open slowly. I smile at him, his emerald eyes training on my face. He cracks a grin, showing his pearly white teeth. It strikes me how perfect he is. Almost unreal, model-like. I smile wider in reply.

"There it is again," he chuckles to himself, squeezing my arm.

"What?" I ask, my voice still sounding tired when really, my mind couldn't be more awake.

His soft grin melts my heart.

"Your smile. Waking up to that makes all these years of loneliness worthwhile."

I close my eyes and giggle softly, my skin prickling softly as his fingers lightly caress my arm. We revel in each other. It's relaxing.

I'm just about to reply to him when an ear-splitting, deafening, shattering, blaring crash vibrates through the room, ricocheting from wall to wall.

The door nearly flies off its hinges.

I think my heart forgets to beat as I gasp in shock, head spinning wildly from the noise. It spins faster when I realise that Adrien has pulled me closer to him, holding me protectively. I'm begging that he doesn't notice my blush.

Just as soon as it had started, the noise is cut silent and Adrien and I wait, unmoving, for something else to happen. The sudden silence is almost enough to make us stop being uneasy.

Almost.

I'm not sure if it's my imagination at first.

But judging by the frown Adrien is giving me, I believe it isn't.

The sharp and quiet click of shoes sounds from the distance, growing louder. With every step the person takes, a sick feeling floods the pit of my stomach. My mind is shuddering, my heart is jittering. I have no idea why I'm so nervous. But it's because I recognise the feeling. The feeling I've known only once before.

The clicks are growing louder.

Closer.

Faster.

More prominent, more chilling.

I've only ever experienced the same feeling once in my whole life before, the smallest, most insignificant noise has only ever struck nothing but extreme trepidation into my very being once before. The raw fear that is cascading down on me in waterfalls, blocking off my airways and stealing the oxygen from my lungs has only ever done so once before.

The day they took me away.

5 more clicks.

Louder.

Closer.

2 more.

Louder.

Closer.

It's okay, I remind myself. Adrien is here, you trust him, he'll not let anything happen to you, it's okay.

I grip onto Adrien in fear.

The clicks are nearly here.

All too soon, the clicks approach the door, and I'm not ready. In a way, I'd kind of expected it to be her.

Lila.

She clicks into the room, her dominating aura nearly crushing me with its power.

I don't think I've ever been so intimidated. Ever.

Leaning on the door frame, she stops slowly, her every moment seeming to be so nonchalant in the eeriest of ways. Like she's in no particular hurry and being so nasty is the most natural thing in the world to her.

It wouldn't surprise me.

We watch her expression change ever so slowly, the corners of her mouth twisting upwards, almost amused. She raises her eyebrows expectantly and tilts her head so she's looking down at us even more.

Then, I realise something.

We've given ourselves away.

Of course she's seen our skin touch by now, of course I wouldn't put it past her. Adrien appears to have noticed too, and we jump apart quickly, knowing it's useless. Now I just feel even weaker. Lila folds her arms, trying to angle herself against the decayed door frame in the most aesthetic way possible.

"Well, this certainty isn't the welcome I'd expected. Anything you'd like to tell me, you two?" she giggles, her voice devoid of any emotion but malice.

We exchange nervous glances and decide in a look that it's best to stay quiet. So we do.

She unleashes a cold cruel laugh, before wiping a tear from the corner of her eyes.

Oh, I'm so glad that our discomfort amuses her.

"Awh. Isn't that sweet? I've got to say, I'm impressed Adrien. I'm surprised you've done what we asked. I didn't think you had it in you," she taunts.

Her words are a blade, slicing clean into my skin, stealing into the wound and making it burn with realisation. I freeze, paralyzed. What does she mean? Slowly, I turn and face Adrien, shivering from the goose bumps that have infested my skin. What makes me feel instantly terrified is when he doesn't meet my eyes. He's hugging his knees, awfully resembling the position he was in when I first met him, eyes glued to the floor like he never wants to move them.

He won't meet my eyes.

What don't I know?

I seem to amuse Lila even more. She laughs out loud, feeding off my confusion and worry like a vulture.

"She has no idea, does she? You mean you haven't told her? Ooh, that has to sting. Even better," she continues, her voice relishing every syllable.

It takes my voice a moment to come out from it's hiding place and work.

"Tell me what? Adrien what is she talking about?" I ask, my voice shaking, my fear in the answer evident.

Adrien says nothing at first. He just sits there, opening his mouth as if his voice has been stolen. Then he meets my eyes, and I notice they're glistening with tears.

"Marinette, I-" he begins, reaching out a hand to try and comfort me before he's cut off by Lila.

"No, no. I'd quite fancy telling her. It'll make it more... dramatic."

Her eyes light up at the last word, filling with the scariest evil I've ever been faced with.

"When you were first brought here, Adrien was given the task of... experimenting with your abilities. Testing what you were willing to do to help him. Weren't you?" Lila explains, prowling slowly towards me and towering over where I am hunched in a little ball of hurt.

I spin back around to Adrien, my eyes willing him to tell me it's not true. To deny it and show me it's a lie. I'm hoping. I'm risking the belief.

But he doesn't.

I refuse to believe it. I shake my head quickly and repeatedly, my brain searching and rifling through folders and files of memories to find some, any, other explanation. There must be one.

My voice has been buried in a draw, a flame that Lila has just stepped on and put out. I can't think of any words, sentences, that will possibly help myself feel less alone and... and.

Betrayed.

"No. No! You... y-you couldn't have, you w-wouldn't have..." I trail off, and a new wave of realisation crashes into my face, waking me up, "Adrien?"

One tear slides down his face.

One tear.

So many answers.

It's all the confirmation I need to know that she's not lying, he's not denying anything.

This is the truth. The truth never kills you, never. It knocks you down and breaks you, but never kills you.

Why?

So it can point its icy finger at you and laugh until its stomach hurts, and you? You're left wishing that it killed you.

"I wanted to tell you, I didn't know how," he tries to reach out again as if he knows that I'm about to break down.

But I surprise myself.

I don't cry.

I'm stronger than that.

"Oh, it's true. But I suppose that you're the only one who isn't willing to treat him like the monster that he is, so, when we tried to... how shall I put this... extract, information from him about you, it seemed he wasn't willing to cooperate."

I'm intrigued now, dying to see how much wrong he could actually do me. He's already managed to gain my trust and fill me full of happiness, all on a broken promise. So now, I want to feel the pain, like it's a drug and I'm addicted, no matter the cost. I want to experience the full extent of what these deranged people want me to feel. No matter how much they want me to hurt, I won't show them. I remain with a neutral expression on my face, letting it be a mask in which I will paint and carve neutral, uncaring features, and I will not let anyone chip the mask. Not even Adrien. I don't even know what I'm supposed to think anymore.

"Now, I'll let you come to your own conclusions about why he didn't say anything, because sadly that's all we have time for," Lila begins, the fake disappointment apparent in her voice, "however, as much as I'd love to stay here and chat with you two as if you're not both freaks, you are, I'm not, and I'm here on business."

I don't even register her pulling a small glossy black flute from one of her pockets since I'm so focused on looking everywhere but Adrien, because I know that my heart is hurting so bad it has broken my ribs. And broken ribs look fine on the outside, but really every breath hurts. I'm worried that if I so much as look at him, I will unleash the full extent of my sadness.

I finally snap back to attention when she blows a shrill series of notes on the flute. Instantly I'm reminded of music from snake charmers: lilting but still creepy enough to make the hair on the back of your neck stand on end.

Without warning, I hear a snap.

My hands are thrust behind my back and I'm powerless.

As I struggle to fight my own body, I can feel the cold, stiff metal of iron cuffs keeping my hands in place.

It appears that the same thing has happened to Adrien, because I can hear him struggling too, grunting in effort to keep his balance. Somehow, I still feel the urge to help him, after all of the revelations this morning has brought. I guess that's what happens when you love too much. Your heart attaches itself to someone so easily because it's so desperate that anyone makes a difference. And when the world blows up in your face, your heart is the one that held the matches for the dynamite.

Adrien tries to help me, but I move away from him, shuffling on my knees. Lila laughs, seeing our friendship, or whatever it was, fall apart under her grasp.

Through my teeth I can barely control my emotion, so I grit my teeth and speak in a dangerous tone.

"What do you want?" I growl, a strange mix between angry and heartbroken.

Leaning down ever so slowly, Lila flashes me another smile that never reaches her eyes.

"None of your business sweetheart. I don't expect you to understand anyway," she says in a patronising tone. I scowl at her receding back as she clicks over to Adrien.

I have to stifle a gasp as she drags him to his feet with more strength than I thought she'd have. Once more she produces the flute and spins it nimbly in her fingers. It is spinning so fast I don't see how it manages to morph into another object but when it has stopped spinning, I see the metal of the flute has been crafted into a sharp black blade that glints in the early morning light. I have to gasp out loud. Surely she's not going to... kill him?

In the amount of time it takes me to blink, she has pinned Adrien to the wall and is holding the blade millimetres away from his throat. Dangerously close.

Without moving her hands, she turns on me again, but I can't look at her. My eyes are glued to Adrien, who is focused on trying not to be impaled. He's gasping for breath, eyes locked on the blade that is too close to his throat. I curse my heart for twinging for him.

"So, I've got a proposition for you," Lila announces innocently. She leans closer to me, expression darkening, "would you like to hear it?"

Adrien finally meets my eyes for what seems like hours and fixes me with a look full of anguish.

Don't take off the mask.

Don't let him chip it.

Don't cry. Whatever you do.

So, I do everything in my power not to, and I turn back to Lila, my expression deadly serious and drained of emotion.

"Yes."

Lila looks so genuinely pleased I want to strangle her.

"Great! It seems like you've done such a good job with that mattress, haven't you? I mean, it was pretty..." she emphasises dramatically with her free hand, demonstrating how destroyed it was, "you know. So, here's the deal. You show me what else you can do, and I don't drive this blade so far up your boyfriend's throat he can taste the metal," she spits, voice low and warning. I can tell she means every word of what she's saying and is immensely enjoying the discomfort she has caused to both of us.

I reply with a cold steely look, all the time keeping a wary eye on the blade that is held against Adrien's Adams apple, glinting.

Adrien catches me off guard, shouting.

"Marinette, don't!"

I think Lila has pressed the blade further into him, because he immediately quietens, body writhing in pain.

"What do you want me to do?" I snarl back, eyes dead set on hers.

She looks around as if looking for inspiration, before pausing and clicking her fingers.

Great.

She's had an idea.

"It seems you are able to restore most of the things that he destroys. I want you to repair this whole room," she pauses for a second to let her command fully sink in to both of us.

I know what has happened every time I try to use my powers.

So does Adrien.

We both know the consequences. But Lila isn't finished.

She leans forward ever so lightly so she is hovering over my small frame, extremely imposing. I look up at her, some fear managing to break loose and create a tiny crack in my mask. In a low voice that seems like a whisper, she speaks again.

"Now."

**I hope you enjoyed it! I'm in the planning process of co-writing a story with my friend Icarus who is a great writer. So, keep an eye out for that ;)**


	15. Last surges of friendship

**I'm sorry for the wait, but I hope you all like this chapter. **

**A big thank you to Chat-and-ladybug for your lovely comment, it means an awful lot! **

**Also, I had another idea for a story: an AU where Mari is a florist who writes the love notes to put in flowers people want to send, and she keeps having to write beautiful love notes to Ladybug from a mysterious stranger. Would any of you read that or should I just do a one shot of the idea? Let me know!**

**Hope you enjoy! **

No. No no no no no.

I pause, my expression not faltering. Lila is almost laughing, a malevolent glint in her eyes. Like she can almost tell that I'm panicking inside.

Oh, who am I kidding?

She can definitely tell.

I get to my feet, unsteady without the balance of my hands. I feel less intimidated now that I'm on her level, but by the way she drifts over to me, leaning close to my face, she's still in control. She hasn't finished manipulating us yet.

"Of course, you don't have to. You could just let me kill him. After all, he has been a meanie hasn't he, not telling you about all of this. But personally, I think Adrien here looks a lot better without this lodged in his throat, am I right?"

I force myself a glance at Adrien. He is trying to silently get my attention with his eyes, which are wide with desperation for me to listen. He gives a curt nod of understanding with all the space he has.

I know what he's trying to say, just from his expression. He's trying to tell me that it's ok for me to let him die. That he knows that he betrayed me, and he wouldn't blame me.

Because he would let him die too.

I think about all of the hurt, all of the anger, the confusion residing inside of me right now. It's stored away into my brain and crumpled up in my limbs and around my heart. In the past few minutes I've never been upset so much by someone I thought would never betray me. But, for some reason, there's a kind of barrier that blocks out any thoughts that Lila is encouraging. And then I understand. I understand what she's after, what she wants to do to me. She wants me to consider letting Adrien die for all he's done to me.

Sure, part of me will never forgive him for tricking me, but I can't even consider the possibility of letting him die.

Yes, he's hurt me.

A lot.

However, I know that it will never make anything better if he dies and it's because of me. If he did, I'd just be closer to becoming the monster that everyone wants me to be.

No matter what they think, I'm not stupid. I know that monsters are in fact real. Everything like that is. Except monsters, they are the hardest to uncover at first.

When I was younger, I used to be convinced that there was a monster under my bed. That it was waiting for the moment that I fell asleep so that it could devour me in a single bite. So, every night I would shine a light under my bed to see if there was anything there. And every night there wasn't. After being locked away, I stopped checking for the monsters. Because I knew that they were real, just not in the way I thought. I stopped trying to find the monsters, because I realised they roam land in broad daylight.

As humans.

I'll never let myself become a monster like that.

So, I take a deep breath.

Even though it is going to destroy me inside and outside, I'll do it.

For closure on my friendship with Adrien.

"You have my word," I say, avoiding all glances in Adrien's direction.

Lila squeals in excitement.

"Yay! Ok then, do your worst. Remember the consequences."

I sigh in relief as my shackles come free and my arms fall back to my sides. I close my eyes and pause, trying not to think about the aftermath of what I'm about to try and do. Taking a deep breath, I stay as calm as possible and I stand with my feet slightly apart.

I can feel the air around me still, and I begin to dwell on the emotion inside of me, picturing the hurt as a gallon of water that is swirling, rushing, flowing, charging, crashing, destroying me, racing, bubbling, killing me, draining my energy, out from my heart and into my veins, rocketing through them to reach their destination and be free at last. The water wants to escape, trying to find holes in my skin to pour from, but it can't find anywhere. Every hurtful thing ever said to me is on repeat, louder than a thousand fireworks all exploding in my memory. All I can think is of how I've been betrayed by Adrien, and of how the truth can hurt so much worse than a lie when you hear it from the one person you'd never expect. There's so much emotion, so much stronger than anything I've felt before.

I open my eyes.

Now.

My hands are gaping holes, allowing the water to pour out from them in tidal waves of white light that wash over the walls, cleansing and scrubbing the walls of soot and tar and decay. Like I'm trying to get rid of that part of it.

Like I'm trying to get rid of Adrien.

I can feel myself getting more and more tired, like the water is my energy and I can feel it seeping out of my body like a pool of blood. I'm struggling with the effort to keep control. My emotion is winning, it's winning. It isn't quenched yet and wants to get rid of everything.

So there's no going back.

Despite the feeling it's giving me, I can't deny how beautiful it looks as it returns the room back to a different normal. Lila and Adrien are standing by the side, mouths gaping as they take in the spectacle I'm creating. Adrien looks horrified, as if he knows that I'm doing this all to save him and that somehow makes him feel worse.

The room is nearly restored.

But there's a problem.

I'm not ready to stop. There's still so much hurt and anger inside of me, confusion and desire for answers, and I'm still overwhelmed. There are still bucketsful of emotion that need to be repaired. I'm reaching nearly no energy whatsoever and yet I can't stop when I see the knife that's pressed against Adrien's throat. I need to stop the suffering. Mine and his. I have to. I can't leave it. What do I do?

Lila understands. She's figured out where my power comes from. So, she pushes the knife harder into Adrien, and I'm not sure whether she's hurting him. He's not dead. Yet.

With one last crazy surge of energy, I scream out in pain and weakness. My cry makes everyone in the room shudder. A burst of blinding light emanates from every part of my body, exploding in a blast around me.

Adrien is knocked to the floor, Lila is sent flying against the wall with a tremendous power, Lila drops her knife, Adrien's shackles disappear, Lila clutches her head, a drop of blood spilling from it, she's staring at me with a hungry look in her eyes, guards are at the door, in the room, surrounding me.

There's chaos everywhere.

And I'm standing in the middle of it.

Frozen.

Adrien is in front of me, and our eyes meet. Everyone else is oblivious, engrossed in making sure Lila is ok, they don't pay attention to us.

Just like that, blue eyes meet emerald and my mask flies to the floor, shattering. There's a cave inside of me, a vacuum, an absence of everything. Now the feeling of sadness is raw, burning into me.

I don't think I can stand. I think I'm going to feint. No no no. Not now. Not right now. A stray tear of pure sadness slips from my eye as I crumble to the floor, and Adrien isn't fast enough to catch me.

"Marinette! NO!" I hear him shout as I fall.

I'm too tired to fight it and show them I'm awake.

I think I'll just listen for now.

I hit the ground, eyes closed, and I listen to the voices surrounding me.

"This is all your fault," says Adrien angrily. His voice is cracking. I think he's crying.

"Me? No, blame your father." Lila. I'd recognise her sickly-sweet voice anywhere.

"Not brave enough to face me, is he?"

A brief pause.

What about Adrien's father? He's never mentioned him properly before.

I try to fight the weakness and listen further.

"Whatever. I can't believe you didn't tell her," Lila mocks, snorting in laughter.

"I-I didn't know how, ok? Things were going so well," Adrien replies, his breaths heavy. He's definitely crying.

"So well you decided to break her heart?" Lila's voice is getting louder, closer to me. She must have crouched down next to me, "you know, this is all _your_ fault. It's clear her power follows emotion, and you broke her so bad this has happened. Don't you realise, silly boy?"

"What," Adrien answers bluntly.

"You did this. This was you, not me," she starts to laugh at him, "you really do destroy everyone you touch. No exceptions."

I think I hear the exact moment Adrien breaks down crying, and then I hear Lila click her fingers.

Then I'm being moved, dragged along the floor ever so slowly by two sets of hands. My curiosity takes over and I open my eyes to see the ceiling moving before me. It makes my head spin. Although it strains my eyes, I see Adrien is facing the newly cleaned stone wall, fist clenched as he rests his head on his hand and leans on the wall. Hearing me being moved, he turns around and when he sees my eyes are open, his eyes fill with another round of tears. He starts towards me, but more guards hold him back, wrapped up in their protective clothing, but he pushes against them, trying to break free of their tight grasp.

"Don't worry Marinette! I'll get to you, I promise. I'll make everything right!" he screams to me through the havoc.

The last sound I hear before my eyes roll to the back of my head is Lila's laugh, echoing through my brain.


	16. Bitersweet Betrayal

**IF YOU HAD READ THIS CHAPTER BEFORE NOW, PLEASE RE-READ THE ENDING SO THE REST OF THE STORY MAKES SENSE! **

**Hey everyone!**

**Ok, so I'm really really sorry for not updating for a long time, I've had so much going on with school and personal commitments so I haven't had time to post. I've managed to read some of the reviews and thank you so much for your lovely comments! **

**Lots of you said you'd read the Flowershop idea, so I'll try to work on that, but this story will be my priority. If you're new to this story I'm so glad that you've started reading, and let me know your thoughts.**

**Hope you enjoy!**

Pain.

Excruciating pain.

The first thing I feel when I stir. It's everywhere, infesting every limb and every inch of my body. It's like my arms and legs are attached to weights and I'm sinking, sinking, incapable of moving.

I'm so tired, exhausted, and I immediately recognise the feeling. This is my body reacting to me using my powers, a consequence I never imagined I'd have to face. This time however, I've been pushed further than I ever have before. My energy has been almost fully depleted, and I feel like I'm frozen on the spot.

It's at this moment that I look around, trying to piece together where I am and what I'm doing here. Have I been transferred again? What has happened to Adrien? My brain aches just as much as the rest of my body and for now I don't want to think. I want answers, to know where I am.

I know that I'm not in the same cell, because there is no window, no portal to the outside world, to sanity, to reassurance. Now there's no window, there's no hope.

I try to get up, I try to call out, but everything is too weak and limp like it has been too many times before, so I collapse back to the floor and instead feel my kneecap collide with the hard stone of the floor. I gasp in agony as I writhe on the floor in a pathetic heap.

"Help! Somebody, please!" I croak, wanting, needing anybody to rescue me, to comfort me.

I don't know why I do.

I know that it's useless.

The only person in this whole place who I thought would, isn't who I thought they were.

I make a very bad decision next.

I curl up into a ball and wallow in my own pain, not knowing how I could do anything else. I stay there, huddled in a ball of my own thoughts.

Adrien broke my heart.

I really did like him, thinking that I'd finally found that one person who cared enough about me to not see me as the girl who got locked in an asylum, but I was wrong. I was so unbelievably wrong when I actually thought he was being genuinely kind, and it turned out it all meant nothing. Not a single thing.

And the worst part is, I still really like him.

I'm so used to being screwed over and alone, what's one more time. At this point I've learned to deal with it, and treat it as the normal, but no matter what, every time it just hurts a little bit more. Lies are the plaster that try to contain the scar that is the truth. And every time you move, the scar will open and the truth will keep on being remembered and all of the painful memories bleed back in a scarlet puddle of someone else's creation.

I don't see the point in shouting anymore. Then again, I suppose I never did. There's no one who's going to come and rescue me. Ai hat this stupid place for filling me full of something so dangerous.

Hope.

It's a terrible thing, building you up in a tower of glass just to be shattered and broken as soon as you come into contact with anything. Hope is like this illusion of a better situation that isn't real. It's this realisation that a small part of you is dead and has been replaced with a cold, cruel fantasy which is unattainable. So, for now, I've got to wait here for my body to repair itself before I can think clearly again.

I end up curled up on the cold stone floor, shivering from the icy stillness in the air as goose bumps lace every inch of my skin. I trace patterns on the floor with my fingertip, feeling the grime and dust beneath my finger. Immediately, my mind begins to wander, and soon I find that I am having an internal conversation with myself.

Almost like I'm crazy.

Which I'm not.

I'm not crazy.

I squeeze my eyes tight, a new memory searing into my brain, ripping off the bandage that I had tried to fix everything with and letting a fresh tidal wave wash over me.

The last time I said that was before, before...

Adrien.

The name breaks me over again. I'm trying so hard to think rationally about everything he's done, trying not to let my emotion influence my thoughts so I have a fair chance at letting the last time I see him not end so badly.

Surely, he must have a good reason, a plan, for doing everything he did.

_'__You've done what we asked._

No, he hadn't told them anything, had he? But I suppose Lila ended up knowing about our skin cancelling each other out, so he didn't need to really. She found out anyway because we were together. It wasn't done on purpose, right? A click in my mind.

Crack. Doubt has a hammer and a chisel and it's chipping away at my skull.

_'__You mean you haven't told her?'_

He chose to keep it from me. I could've told me at any point and yet he chose not to. But then he said it was because things were going so well with us. What things? Did he maybe feel the same about me as I did him? Or did he have plans to expose me and my powers? Maybe he didn't think that I'd find out, that I wasn't smart enough to catch on and find him out.

Crack, crack. Doubt has prised open a small part of my head and I feel it filtering in slowly.

I'm beginning to reason with myself, and I still don't know which voice to trust. What is truth and what is a lie, I have no idea. I'm staring at everything through a funhouse mirror and everything is distorted, not being what it seems.

Surely, Adrien wouldn't do those things. He wouldn't. He's not like that, is he? He hadn't done anything to me. He had let himself be tortured or hurt by Lila instead of me. Yeah, that's right. It's Lila. It's Lila, it's Lila.

Right?

_'__Experimenting with your abilities.'_

_'__Testing what you were willing to do to help him.' _

No.

That was it.

The evidence is staring me in the face, eyes wide, daring me to ignore it. I laugh bitterly to myself. Even now, I'd tried to defend him to myself. To prove to myself he wasn't trying to go against me.

That ends now.

Right now.

Yeah I'm upset.

Yeah, truth and lies can become one and the same, they can be deceiving, morphing occasionally to form blurred, imperfect truth.

Yeah, betrayal breaks your heart and darkens your soul, leaving a black tarred handprint on your heart so that you never, ever forget the pain.

Yeah, this whole thing is awful, and they aren't going great right now.

But I'm going to be ok, I'm going to heal with time and things will get better. Because I was fine before Adrien. So I know that if I try really hard, I can get back to that place again.

I will make it happen.

In one last attempt to find any strength, I crawl over to wall and try to pull myself up whilst holding onto it, but it's no use at all.

I remember Adrien telling me last time that I would need to wait it out for my body to repair itself and it was no use moving a lot until then. As much as I hate to admit it, he's right.

Slowly but surely, I start to think about him again. Like a silent predator, he slowly starts to creep back into my mind, becoming all of my thoughts. When I close my eyes, I can see his dazzling smile, always so nervous and conscious, I can feel the feather light touch of his gentle fingers as they caress my cheek, so gentle and careful. Most of all, I can still see his beautiful emerald green eyes glinting at me when my eyes are closed. Shamrock green when the moon was out and yet golden in the sun. Eyes that could be brimming with emotion: longing, terror, self-consciousness, sadness, pain, affection... honesty.

I scoff at the latter two, finding myself hilarious for even considering them. It's almost embarrassing how much I still want to trust him. I'm so embarrassed it brings a fresh wave of tears, the worst one yet, so bad that my whole body wracks with every sob. Every tear feels like it's made of one percent water and about one million percent feelings, broken feelings, hurt feelings, crushed and angry feelings, all flushing out of my body. I realise how good it feels to be alone, so I can pour my soul out without being judged, and I can think without being influenced, and I can be isolated, without Adrien, without Lila. Just loneliness and I.

These are the facts:

There's no hope of me ever getting out of this place.

There's no hope of me ever truly finding someone who I can trust again. They all come with freedom, because the only people who truly cared are a world away, and I've left them behind.

And I'm so humiliated, I can never see Adrien again. A part of my cries for him, another part of me never wants to see his face again.

What he did, what he didn't say, would've been more acceptable if he hadn't chosen someone like me, someone who is so fascinated by the notion of friendship, of romance, of comfort and warmth, that I was stupid and broken enough to believe him and everything he said to me.

When I don't think I can cry anymore, when I'm hurting so badly I can feel it physically, an overwhelming tiredness engulfs me, taking me into its arms like it's the only one who wants me. And I happily oblige, handing myself over to sleep so I can do the one thing I dream of most in the world, the one thing I lone desperately to do in this moment, the one thing that can make me forget who I am and where I am and just let me step out of my own shoes and just be neutral for a moment.

I sleep.

I escape.

What Marinette failed to notice as she fell asleep, was the rough stone floor beginning to decay and blacken, forming patterns on the floor, and a small cracking sound next to the wall. A sound so quiet it was almost unnoticeable, but to the broken and eager heart of a girl who wanted a friend, it would've been as deafening as an avalanche. But Marinette was asleep. And if she were awake, she would've seen the last beam of the dying sun shine onto the stone floor and illuminate the smallest of patterns that chiselled itself into the stone as if by magic. Someone's magic. And if she had looked closer, she would have seen that they weren't in fact patterns, but small words.

Small.

But powerful

12 words carved into the floor.

'**M, i Will fix THis, i Have to. i lOve you, oK? A'**


	17. The Truth Hurts

**_Hi all! _**

**_Hopefully I didn't keep you all waiting that long for another chapter. I'm on holiday now, but when I get back, the next four weeks are going to be really stressful as I'm preparing for a lot of important exams *sighs* so if there is a bigger delay that's why. But, I'm going to write as much as I can until I get back so that you have content to read. _**

**_Enjoy and let me know your thoughts!_**

_From the perspective of Adrien..._

I'm too late.

I try to reach out for her, but I'm too late.

Before I can do anything to stop it, Marinette is being dragged away, away from the cell, away from me, by the two guards who brought her here. I notice how they're both covered from head to toe in the same protective clothing that everyone around here wears.

So I don't kill anyone.

Knowing that I can't properly harm anyone, I try to get past them, to go with Marinette, only to be restrained, and as I struggle against the guards holding me back, I see Marinette's eyelids flutter open and fix on me. I gasp, a surge of energy coursing through my bones. I reach forward, pushing and shoving and shouting in a wild frenzy of attempts to get to her. To make her hear me. To tell her they've got it all wrong.

I don't know if she'd believe me.

"Don't worry Marinette! I'll get to you, I promise. I'll make everything right!" I yell despite the commotion.

She says nothing, probably still too weak from the feat she has just tried to accomplish. From when she risked her own life to save mine.

_Don't think about it too much Adrien. It'll just make it worse._

Before I know it, she's being dragged away.

And then she's gone. Out of sight.

It's like my brain doesn't function properly, and it can only function in segments, creating fragments of thoughts and memories that will explain everything that happened too fast. Too quickly. I can't think, but all I'm sure of is the fact that Marinette was here. And just as soon as she entered this cell, she's being dragged out of it again.

I stare at the door in disbelief.

I'm finding it so hard to believe that mere hours ago, she was here, lying next to me on the mattress of her creation, and she was next to me, near me, holding me, letting me wrap my arms around her like I've dreamed of for as long as I can remember. Hours ago, I was so happy with her, and now I'm miserable without her.

With no one for me to go after, the guards let me go in the most violent way possible, throwing me onto the floor like I'm nothing. My limbs clatter to the floor and graze the stone, making me flinch in pain. I've endured worse, so much worse, so I almost don't feel it anymore.

But what I do feel is the emotional agony, unbearable like a fresh wound that has been knitted closed ever since my mother died. It's more deadly than I remember, gushing violent memories everywhere.

With every click of her shoes, she rips into the wound another time.

Lila, now with a bandage carefully tied around her head, approaches me and folds her arms. The smile spreading across her face is enough to make me want to kill her.

"Well, back to square one for you now!" she stated brightly, not flinching at my downcast expression.

I glare daggers at her.

"What? Why are you still here? Surely you've put us both in enough pain. Or is that much evil not enough for you?" I fume, getting to my feet and standing, taller than her and feeling more in control.

With a flip of her hair, Lila gasps in mock offence, which irritates me even more. She thrusts a pair of black gloves in my direction and I catch them quickly, caught off guard.

"Fine! You don't want me? I'll leave. Good luck befriending Marinette again, that is, if you ever see her another time. I was quite brilliant at getting her to hate you, wasn't I? Just imagine, she's probably in her new cell by now, as broken and crying as you were when you first got here. A delightful picture, no?" Lila sneers, winking at me.

She turns on her heel abruptly and struts out of the room. Before I can celebrate her departure, she pauses in the door frame and spins around ever so slowly.

"Oh, and Adrien? Put those gloves on. You wouldn't want all of our hard work to be for nothing, now would you?"

The door slams.

_Click, click click._

The sound of her shoes echoing down the halls with every step she takes.

That's when the silence hits me.

And I realise that I really am alone again.

The first thing I do with the silence is slip the gloves onto my shaky hands, forcing myself to take a breath and calm down. Try to be rational.

I've been alone before. A lot before.

So why is it a problem now?

I don't even have to think about the answer, because I know exactly what it is. Now, I've seen what it's like to not be properly alone, to have someone who understands me and accepts all for my strange imperfect imperfections. Before I was in here, I wasn't cut off. I was surrounded by people, and yet I felt so completely isolated. Because for all I was surrounded, the people refused to see me as one of them.

Marinette was different, she was always so different. She accepted me, showed me kindness even when I wasn't willing to be kind to myself. She always has.

And after what she thinks I've done, she'll hate me.

'_You really do destroy everyone you touch. No exceptions.'_

Oh my goodness.

She'll probably hate me.

And I'll never have the chance to tell her they're wrong.

I sink to my knees and run my hands through my hair.

Realisation dawns on me, and I'm suddenly more upset than ever. She doesn't know. She has no idea. She'll believe Lila. Of course she will. Because I never gave her a reason to believe anything else. To Marinette everything Lila said will make sense, when none of it's true. Well, some of it is. But- but not in the way she thinks.

This, this is why I should have told her how I felt about her. So she'd know that I would never betray her like she thinks I have. But I didn't, did I? No.

I've probably hurt her so much. I mean, she trusted me with a lot of things, she confided in me told me stories of her past, stories I don't think she'll have told anyone else, and now she thinks that I used her. Lila is right: I might just have destroyed her.

I'm utterly forlorn, and I don't even think I can do anything to reassure her. I've no idea where she is or how much damage I've done. And now all I can do is wait, and hope that she trusts me enough to believe me.

Like that's going to happen.

What else is there to do? I'm frozen, suspended, cut off from the only person I've ever really lov-

Oh.

_Oh._

I gasp out loud, running my hands through my hair with the stress of what's just dawned on me. I don't know why it has taken me this long to come to my senses, and I have no idea how I have never realised it before, but I think that I do. I really do love Marinette.

Whilst being strangely relieved to admit it to myself, it just makes everything so much harder. I'd love to believe that we'll catch a glimpse of each other again, maybe one of the times when we're dragged from our cells to relieve ourselves and shower, or maybe we'll see each other when they open the doors to give us food. But somehow, without her here to reassure me, it's so difficult to hold on to any hope at all. When she's not here, it's like she's taken a sliver of my heart with her and I can't function without it. Now that I know what it was like for her to be here, I'm helpless when she's gone.

Next, I do the only thing that I know how to do.

The only thing I've ever been able to do.

I sit down in the corner of this unfamiliarly clean cell, my back resting against the icily cold wall, and I hug my knees, resting my head on top of them. I close my eyes and remember. Just for a second. I try to remember Marinette and when she was here, cursing myself for being so ridiculous because it was mere hours ago when she was taken away.

Another strange memory creeps into my mind, and I welcome it. It's a memory from one of the few sweet moments in my life, before my life became a mess. I was 6, and I remember my mother and father were about to leave for a business trip. I was upset because I didn't want them to leave, and I knew I'd miss them. My mother smiled at me, the same warm smile that I've missed seeing for too long. She knelt down next to me, held me to her and in my ear, she whispered something I will never forget. I recite her words to myself now, hoping I can ingrain them into my brain.

"I know you'll miss us. But remember this. If you're ever alone, search for the moments that you have in your heart. When tomorrow starts and you're by yourself, we're never far away. No one is. When you're missing us, just remember," I whisper to the silence, smiling wistfully to myself at the memories. All I have to do now is remember, use memories to pretend that Marinette is here, and then I can figure out a way to see her again.

So, I sit on the floor in my little bundle of regret, and I remember.

But too soon remembering turns into thinking, and I realise after a while that I haven't sat and done this since the day of Marinette's arrival. I'm sitting just like I did before, before Marinette. Like I've shrunken back to the scared, insecure person I was days ago, who was consumed by guilt and pain. It's now I realise how crazy it is that the absence of one person can affect someone so badly. I'm back to doing the one thing that I can do.

The thing I've resorted to over the years when I'm lost in the labyrinth that is my life, turning this way and that but I keep going around in circles, impossible circles that never end, and at every twist and turn there's an illusion of an escape, a way out of everything, but it's just fate being cruel, another twisted practical joke that makes me believe for a split second, and then rips away my hope before I can get too attached.

Marinette has always been good for me. Ever since the first day she was thrown into my cell and ever since she tried to coax me out of my trance. And I have to admit, it worked. She helped me remember a part of me that I'd forgotten, the part of me that remembers that I can make others happy. The part of me that matters, defines who I am. She helped me find myself again.

And now what? Now, she sees me as the boy who lied to her, the boy who held the truth back after she trusted him. The boy who let her down and used her for his own good even after he kissed her.

I'm beginning to make myself sound like my father.

No, that can't happen. I'm not my father. I won't make his mistakes. I'm going to fix my mistakes, not ignore them like he did. Not lock them up in a cell like he did.

How to fix them? That is the thing I need to figure out next. At least I have time. I know that I need to get Marinette back. I'm going to try and find her.

Because if there's one thing my mother taught me, it's that when I find the person that is right for me, I should do everything in my power to keep them.

So that's what I'm going to do now.

Marinette has always been so set on escaping, on breaking free, on reaching the world outside the window. Every time she mentioned it and told me of her hopefulness, her eyes would always light up with hope, and joy, a concept that is foreign to me now. I decide that's what I'll do.

I'll break us out of here.

And I'll do it for love.


	18. A plan in motion

**Sorry for the shorter chapter this week, like I said I'll be busy with revision but I love reading your comments from chapters whilst I do. Thank you to everyone who has commented so far! **

**Enjoy!**

Like a seed that has been planted in the earth, a plan begins to grow in my mind. I sit and think, eyes closed in concentration, formulating ideas and anticipating problems. All the time I keep seeing Marinette's face, features darkened by hurt and betrayal, and it makes me wince. I open my eyes and sigh in frustration. I know that I will have to bury my emotion if I want to do this. I'll have to supress every inch of thought, because when I do this, it's imperative that I don't get caught out. This is one game that I have to win.

They can lock me up, Father can imprison me here and watch over me like he's concerned about his demented son, but I'll show him.

I'll show Marinette.

I'll show all of them.

My plan will work, and I will get out of here, no matter what it takes. Because even if it doesn't now, I have nothing to lose.

So I bury every bit of emotion deep inside of me, putting it all into a chest in my mind and padlocking it so it can't get out until I need it. From my life before here, I've been good at showing no emotion, so it should be okay now. I know that I can ponder everything when I've patched things over with Marinette.

What if she doesn't want to come with me? What if she'd rather rot in a cell for the rest of her life than come with me? What if she's not even here anymore? What if they've killed her?

_No Adrien. Bottle it up. Ignore it._

I scold myself. Sit on the mental chest. No emotion. Don't let it get through. I need to think clearly.

Somehow, somewhere, I hope that she's doing the same. Huh. I doubt that. I'm struck with a painful reminder of what Lila said.

_'__She's probably in her new cell by now as broken and crying as you were when you first got here.'_

At least she won't be dead. I might be dead to her though. I want to cry out loud, but I'm so overrun with sadness I can't even find the tears.

Instead, I go over the final details of my plan and consider any problems I might encounter. As soon as I'm the slightest bit confident that I can pull this off and everything I'm thinking will work, I get to my feet and walk over to the cell door. At the top of the door, there is a small opening with thick iron bars running from end to end. It's like a window, except there's no way I'd ever want to willingly choose to look out at what lies outside that door. Especially not since I've been out there before, and every single moment of supposed 'freedom' was torture.

I carefully remove one of my gloves and as gently as possible, I reach as far as I can through the bars without my skin touching anything. I angle my arm thins way and that, trying to feel for a wall or door or anything that I can get my hands on. Eventually I manage to feel the rough texture of the crumbling wallpaper that lined the halls like a layer of broken skin. It's already so dilapidated it nearly doesn't need my help to enhance its damage. For a split second I can feel its texture, but not for long, because the feeling is slowly replaced by the familiar surge of energy that I can feel rocketing though my arms, coursing through the veins in my forearms and expelling out of my fingertips. I've seen it happen so many times by accident that I don't even need to see the wall to know what is happening to it. There's no need for me to imagine what must be happening, because I've seen it a thousand times.

A trail of black soot and ash starting from under my hand that spreads out slowly from my skin in jagged, unpredictable tendrils of decay, eating the life and swallowing the colour from whatever crosses its path. I can hear the wallpaper crackling as it snaps and peels away from the wall. Shortly after it ceases, my ears pick up the sound of the guards as they notice what I'm doing.

A swift patter of footsteps grow louder and louder, and after a moment two guards are at my cell door, glaring daggers at me as I remove my hand from the wall and pull it back into my cell where they can't get me.

"What's your problem all of a sudden, eh?!"

One of the guards squares up to the door, holding my eye. A tough exterior, but I don't miss the glint of fear in his eyes. Just a split second before he masks his emotions again, but it's enough for me to notice it. I know what it looks like as well as I know my own reflection by now. I glare, unblinking, back at the both of them.

I feel horrible, but I know that it must be done.

For Marinette.

"Go and get Lila. Now," I demand sharply, a hint of menace in my voice.

The guards look taken aback. I know why. They're not used to me being so forceful. No one is. Everyone knows how much I detest Lila, so of course me wanting her to come to me seems unnatural. I give a curt nod, trying to keep my expression as neutral as possible so I don't give anything away.

The second guard, silent until now, stiffens and fold his arms as he eyes me uncertainly.

"Oh yeah, and why have you suddenly changed you mind? She doesn't need you to waste her time. She has far more important matters of business to attend to," he grunts, his expression faltering as he meets my cold glare.

I fold my arms too in reply, mirroring him. I can see it puts him off.

"I'm not going to waste her time. I've changed my mind. I've decided that I'm going to help her and my father learn more about- why on earth am I telling this to you? I should be telling your boss," I lean into the bars, my ungloved hands cautious to not touch them as I manoeuvre my left hand through them.

The guards watch me nervously as my hand draws closer and closer to their faces, and for a second I admit I enjoy seeing the looks of terror and panic etched into their features, as a form of comeuppance for ignoring the same look of fear in my face when they dragged me in here on my father's wishes. They try to remain as calm and collected as possible in front of me, but I see them edge slightly away. My hand stops just in front of the first guard's face, inches away. He swallows, his breath quickening. I gesture with my thumb for him to go down the hall. Leaning into the bars further, I whisper.

"So go get her."

I hate it, I hate it, that I can hear my own father's voice in mine. Although I really hate to admit it, I do sound just like him. I really do. And it's awful, the very thing that I want to avoid more than anything else.

But it's for Marinette, I remind myself.

And it worked.

The guards quickly nod, wiping beads of sweat that seem to have formed and laced their brows in the heat of the moment as they hurry off quickly in search of Lila. Their disgruntled murmurs as they walk makes me sigh. I really don't like being intentionally awful to other people, because that's not who I am, but sometimes you have to sacrifice certain things in order to get others. And sometimes you have to make sacrifices for love.

I'm still waiting after a few moments, and so I begin to pace up and down in front of the door, waiting for them to come back. Hopefully with Lila. Although I think I pulled it off quite well, I also know Lila, and I know that she might not be as easily fooled as the guards.

So, in order for this to work, I'm going to have to give the performance of my life.


	19. Dirty Dealings and Deceit

**Hey everyone!**

**Thank you so much for reading and leaving wonderful reviews like always.**

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**Hope you enjoy!**

_Click, click, click._

I know that sound. I'm so pleased that it worked and I managed to get Lila on board.

Well, hopefully.

She approaches the door, eyebrows raised and her arms folded sceptically.

Uh-oh.

"Why the change of heart?" she asks, her voice not letting any emotions slip. I can't tell whether or not she believes me, or whether she's just amusing me by making me believe she's on board. Either way, I decide that it's best to seem emotionless too. So I hold her glare for a moment, before grinning at her, hoping that it looks mischievous, or at least believable. Judging by the taken aback look on her face, I guess that it must be somewhat believable. Out of her sight I put my gloves back on to show her that I'm willing to comply with her, and then I come to the door so that she can properly see me.

"I'm done sitting about. Marinette clearly hates me now, and you and I both know that it was all based on lies," I state in a matter-of-fact tone, "but now, I don't see any reason why it shouldn't be true. I've thought about it, and I want to know what you're both going to do to her, and me. Care to accept my offer?"

Lila pauses, frowning as she meets my eyes and then looks me up and down. I can't show her my state of panic, but I swallow nervously.

Maintaining eye contact, I flash a fake smile at her.

She says nothing.

Does nothing.

"How do I know I'm not being messed with?"

I shrug innocently, widening my eyes.

"What have I got to lose?" I reply.

Once again, Lila pauses, breaking eye contact in thought. I can tell that she's trying to weigh everything up in her mind, and I really really hope that it's okay.

Eventually, she meets my eyes with an uncertain expression. Cocking her head to one side, she frowns. It's clear to her this doesn't make sense.

"That's what I'm concerned about. You have nothing in the first place," she answers thoughtfully, as if almost to herself.

I hide my grimace. Please don't let it be too late. I need to say something, anything, that will get her on board with this. I wrack my brains, trying desperately to think of any randomness that I can spout in the hopes of getting her on my side.

What would my father say?

My insides curl at the very thought of it. I steel myself and think about it. It shouldn't be too difficult, should it?

After all, like father like son, right?

I laugh bitterly at Lila, taking her completely by surprise. She jumps in shock, but almost straight away regains her composure. I fold my arms nonchalantly and scoff at her.

"You're forgetting I have a lot more knowledge about this than you do. They are my powers after all, and I've lived with Marinette and experienced the full effect of her abilities too," I say airily. Lila looks at me, her interest piqued.

"The way I see it, it would be stupid, no, naïve, to let this opportunity pass," I lean into the door and Lila's eyes widen in surprise, "and besides, you should know I'm telling the truth. If anyone knows a good lie, it's you."

I immediately regretting saying that last sentence. What if she _does _know a good lie, and mine isn't one? What if she can see straight through me? No, no, no, this was a bad idea, this is hopeless.

Lila's expression twists into a cruel grin.

Oh no, I bet she knows.

She hesitates for a moment before leaning forward and before I know it the door is creaking open, and I realise that I'm free.

Temporarily.

But it means she bought it!

"Fine. But I better not be wrong Agreste."

Now that she has opened the door, I'm positively ecstatic and jumping for joy on the inside. I'm just so delighted that the first phase of my plan has worked, and finally I can work on the next step. Knowing that that door is open and I'm supposedly on Lila's side, makes things so much easier. Now, I'm one step closer to getting Marinette back again. I can't wait to see the look on her face when she realises that I've come to find her.

Or maybe I can.

The lid on my chest of emotions is struggling to stay in place. The emotions are trying to get out and cloud my judgement again. But no, I won't let them.

Even if Marinette isn't pleased to see me, I'll make things right again.

Sometimes it takes making a mistake to make things better, because from the darkest of places and from the ashes, when everything looks hopeless, that's when the truly good things surface. When the first flower pokes it's head of from the embers and starts to grow, when the sun finds its way out from its prison of clouds and spills its light back into the thirsty sky, that's when you know that those things have been waiting, silently, for their time to be challenged. And so, by facing the obstacles, they can prove that this whole time they were strong.

They just needed room to flourish.

And that's how I know that everything will be ok with Marinette. Because I'll climb from the ashes and bring the light back to her again. To prove how much I truly do like her, and that I'm truly sorry for everything.

That's a promise that I intend to keep.

I'm being escorted down the long dark corridor by Lila long before I'm ready to see it.

Although I've been let out of my cell quite a few times before, I have been less than focused on noting my surroundings. The only times I've ever been out are to have a shower and to be taken to what I assume in their chamber of torture, but every time I am brought out I'm being dragged along by guards, and so I'm too focused on the guns that are pointed at my chest rather than the colourless wallpaper and the tarnished doors every few inches.

So as we walk in silence down the chilling hallway, I decide to make a mental note of how many doors we pass and which direction we are going in. I absorb it all into my head and take mental snapshots of every door, every dark staircase and every cracked window, just so that if... no, _when_ Marinette and I eventually break out, we already know the way to the exit and we don't have to take time to find it. In the hopes of sticking to the plan I take in everything, every last detail.

But, the further down the corridor we walk, the less I want to have to absorb everything around me and the more I want to just close my eyes and wake up, all of this just a terrible nightmare.

This place is utterly terrifying.

It's like I've only half seen it this whole time, only in brief glimmers. The only time I had the chance to steal a glimpse at any of it I was being whisked through the countless snaking halls and bundled down seemingly endless flights of spiral stairs. Now that I'm walking down here myself, I finally understand why everyone in this place is so miserable and hopeless. Even as I'm walking and looking around, I can sense that everything has been repainted and coated in this haunting shadow, like all of a sudden something has changed and sucked the happiness out of something that once had the potential to be beautiful and instead twisted it into what I'm seeing now.

A scream pierces the air and I actually feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. My skin prickles with goosebumps and I can't help myself shiver. Lila looks at me with an amused smile, thinking that I'm pathetic for being so antsy. The sound of pure agony and terror in the scream, and I understand it, like it's a language that only the people here can speak. It greets me like an old friend. Over the time I've been here, I've grown to know every tortured soul who is trapped here with me, knowing who they are, but only be the sound of their screams.

That's something I never imagined that I'd be able to do.

In some way, these halls are exactly the way I remember. But in others, it seems like everything has changed. The walls are just as dilapidated as I remember, the wallpaper crumbling and peeling from the walls like the skin of a deceased figure.

Now I can see the marks on the wall from where I touched it earlier. The blackened corpse of the wall isn't as damaged as I imagined that it would be. I look down at my outstretched palms in wonder.

And slightly in fear.

My powers are getting weaker.

I can feel it.

Slowly but surely, they are. In fairness, I wasn't trying to do a lot of damage to the wall and maybe that's why it wasn't as strong. I don't know whether to be pleased or terrified. It might just be my imagination.

However, something is happening.

And I have no idea what.

I force myself to stay calm and think about it later. What I've done is still incredibly dangerous, and although it blends in perfectly with the aura of the corridor, it terrifies me to know that those kinds of effects came from my hands.

Lila leads me to the end of the corridor, and I have to fight the urge to jump for joy at what I'm looking at.

There it is.

The exit.

The way out, the door to freedom, the escape back to sanity.

It would be so easy for me to just escape now, to take my chance and just run,

To run and run as fast as I can, run like the wind, faster than I ever have before.

I could. I should.

Should I?


	20. The Room Where It Happens

**Hey everyone! **

**I'm so sorry for the late update, I've been really stressed with exam week and**

**didn't have time to post this weeked, but I'll try and post again this**

**weekend if I can. I hope you enjoy this chapter, let me know if you do!**

No.

No, of course I couldn't. There's no way on earth I would actually even consider leaving Marinette behind. If I escaped, knowing that she was still in this treacherous place, then I would be trapped outside of a place that I wanted to be rather than free. Because whether I'm trapped in a cell or as free as a bird outside the cell, I know that as long as I have Marinette by my side, we can be anywhere and be as free as we wish.

As long as we're together.

So I don't run for it. In fact, I'm not even tempted. I can only think of those enticing bluebell eyes, their unspoken kindness the gravity that pulls me towards staying and the incredibly fearless heart of the girl who empowers me to fight for her. To win this battle for her.

I stand loyally by Lila's side, watching her movements as she unlocks the very last door in the hallway, her eyes flickering back and forth from me to the lock to make sure that I don't move. I focus on the lock, a feeling that I'm going to need to remember it gnawing at the pit of my stomach. All of a sudden I'm extremely grateful that I snapped out of my trance as soon as I did. I notice that the lock is in fact a keypad with letters on it. Whenever Lila presses one of the keys it lights up in white. I pay close attention to the order she is pressing them in. She starts with a 'H' and then presses more and more letters in, until I realise she's forming a word, but it's one that I don't know the meaning of.

'HAWKMOTH'

Frowning, I remember the word and as I try to figure out what it could possibly mean, Lila presses the button in the corner of the keypad. It flashes a bright green and omits a small, almost inaudible beeping sound. With a click, the door slides open, and Lila ushers me inside. She quickly glances to both sides of her before slipping in too. As the door closes, she breathes a small sigh of relief, and if I wasn't watching her facial expression closely, I wouldn't have noticed the spark of fear in her eyes. But unfortunately for her, I was.

And I did.

She notices me staring at her, and raises her eyebrows, smiling slyly as if she thinks that I was staring at her in some other way. I spin around, extremely embarrassed, begin to take in the surrounding of the room that I'm in.

Almost immediately after I've looked around, I can tell with certainty that this room belongs to my father. It's exactly the type of working space that he would have: purposeful and yet at the same time classy and expensive, with lavish touches all around the room.

From the ceiling, a colossal chandelier is hanging, a huge silver circle of metal that holds four bronze flames, and underneath it a smaller silver wheel that glitters with the diamonds that have been encrusted in it. It casts a dim lighting throughout the room, making every part of the room seem more mysterious and, well, evil.

There is a black leather chaise lounge to the right of me up against the wall. When I'm looking at it, it appears as though it has never been used before, but knowing my father, that's just the way he'd keep things. He's definitely been here. Surveying the rest of the room, I see multiple steel grey filing cabinets lining the left wall, some of the drawers open. I peer inside when Lila has her back turned.

One of the drawers is full of wooden test tube racks, each one with vials and test tubes full of a red substance. Blood. Next to each one, there are labels, that have been scratched on with ink.

Adrien Week 1

Adrien Week 2

Adrien Week 6

Adrien Week 9

Marinette Week 1

Next to every single tube, there are test tubes from most of the weeks that I've been here, and for Marinette's too. Why they need our blood and what they're going to do with it I have no idea. And that's what I need to find out.

In other drawers, there are various medical records and fact files on Marinette and I. I carefully pick mine up, making sure my gloves are on tightly. As I flip through the pages, scanning everything that has been written in my father's cursive handwriting, I realise how in depth these are. There are so many things about me written on these pages. Memories from my past, descriptions of the effects of my abilities, and a description of the day my mother died. I read the beginning, but the further I read, the worse it gets. Unable to bear it anymore, I slam the file shut and quickly put it back into the drawer, closing my eyes.

Another reminder of the monster that I am.

I'd almost forgotten.

I'm thinking about seeing if Marinette's file is in as much detail, but hesitate because there might be things in there from her past that she might not want me to know about. And I respect that, because I know that there are certainly things about my past that she might think differently if she knew about me. Who my father is, for example. I doubt she'd see me the same way if she knew...

_Focus Adrien, focus, _I reprimand myself, walking further forward into the centre of the room. There is a small desk in the middle of the room, with a stack of blank parchment and a pot of fountain pens. In the wastepaper bin underneath it, I notice that there are lots scrunched up pieces of paper that have been discarded quickly in what looks like some sort of desire to get something written down or solved. I have no idea what on earth my father would be writing in here, but I do know that if he is willing to guiltlessly organise for his son to be tortured for information, then it can't be anything good.

I walk past the desk, trailing my fingers over the top if it as I slowly walk forward. Quickly glancing around the rest of the room, my eyes stop on a painting hung high on the wall in front of me, making me realise how high this room actually is.

My eyes stop.

My heart stops.

The lump in my throat tells me to cry out loud. Holding back tears, I freeze, eyes lingering on the painting.

It's a painting of my father and I. And my mother. Back in the days before everything went to drastically wrong, when we were still a happy family, full of laughter, when life seemed like some sort of fairytale. But some stories don't end in happily ever after. Mine certainly hasn't. I stare at my own face, and I look so happy. Genuine, real happiness, and I almost don't believe that the boy in the picture is me. It just makes me yearn to see my mother again. Even just once. I pull the gloves tighter up my forearms.

Tearing my eyes away from the picture, I see that either side of the painting are two... symbols. Both identical in shape and size. Maybe some sort of insignia? I'm not sure at all. In the middle of each, there is a shape that reminds me of a butterfly. And a few inches further in from the outline, there is another circle of thin iron. They look strangely familiar, like I've seen them places before, so many places before.

Against the wall opposite me, there is an enormous wooden desk, varnished and pristine with two sets of drawers either side of it. There are more pieces of paper frantically strewn all over it, yet the main feature of the desk is the giant boards that have been set up on it. A large pin board made from cork is situated in the middle of the desk, with two other boards of the same size angled slightly outwards. On the middle board, there are multiple photos of me and Marinette which are held there by small pins. I see the photos of myself, remembering when I was living the moment that the photo is showing.

It's a picture of me huddled in the corner of the cell, eyes closed and head in my hands. I think that it must have been taken the day before Marinette was brought here. Even though I can't see my own face, I can see how I exhausted I looked, remembering how I hadn't slept for days before that photo was taken, I remember thinking about my mother and the look on my father's face when he commanded me to be taken here, the memories playing on repeat. The terrifying thing though, is the fact that I don't even recall someone taking the photo, and I don't recall hearing the feint click of a camera. It makes me wonder how much Lila and Father actually know about us and what happens in the cells.

There are pictures of Marinette too: a photo of her entering the cell, a picture of her trying to befriend me. A picture of... I remember most of the photos on here, but this one, I don't remember at all. It's a photo of both of us at night, but I'm asleep on the mattress in the cell and Marinette is curled up on the other side of the room, on the carpet of rubble, her back resting against the wall. She appears to be staring out of the window with her knees up against her chest. When I look closer, I see that she isn't looking out of the window. Her dark blue hair is leaning against the wall, and her expression is unlike any sadness I've ever seen. I've seen her both in pain and upset in the time that I've know her, I've seen her angry and hurt, but I don't think I've ever seen a look of extreme sadness quite like the expression she is wearing. There are tear streaks running down her cheeks and her eyes are red from excessive crying. Seeing this image of her just makes me more determined than I already am to see her again, and hopefully not add to that image of her sadness for much longer.

The two boards next to it are dedicated to us too: the left one of me and the right one of Marinette. On mine there are photos of the damage I can cause, as well as a picture of my face after I had been sent to the 'punishment' room and grilled for information about Marinette, and then another one after she had healed my face. On Marinette's board, there are pictures of her the night when she discovered that we are immune to each other, and photos of her when she repaired our cell and we were surrounded in her magic.

The last thing I notice about the room is on the same wall as the chaise lounge, there is another photo of my mother, which makes my heart clamour for her, but I'm focusing on the other picture. It's a giant roll of parchment that looks ancient, and one side has been written on in some code or language which I can't understand, but on the other side is what I think is a person, but they don't look very human at all. They are risen in front of a background that is made of purple smoke, and when I look at it, I am reminded of the sun. The person is purple and outlined in yellow, with a hungry, powerful scream drawn onto their face, their eyes and mouth illuminated by a white light. The image is captioned in my father's handwriting.

**ABSOLUTE POWER**

It sends a shiver down my spine. This must be what my father wants. It has to be.

Realising Lila has been here this whole time watching me, I spin back around to face her.

"Where are we?" I ask curiously.

She approaches me and leans back on her desk, smiling at me. It's really starting to freak me out.

"We, Adrien, are in the room where it all happens."


	21. Absolute Power?

**Hi everyone.**

**This chapter is a little earlier than I would have liked to post it this week, but I won't have time on Sunday so here it is now. I hope you all like it and it was nice to see you noticed the Hamilton reference, I've been obsessed recently. **

**Unfortunately, you might have to bear with me these next few weeks if I don't get a chapter out regularly, I'm going through quite a tough time at the moment and there are lots of awful things in my personal life going on right now, so I hope you'll understand if I can't post as often. **

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**-Littlemixup :)**

I stare back at Lila, dumbfounded.

"What?"

"This is the place where your father works, when he's trying to figure out yours and your friend's powers. Well, ex-friend's powers really, isn't it?" she replies with a light-hearted laugh.

Gritting my teeth, I stop myself from saying something that will blow my cover, and instead decide to go with.

"Exactly. So, how often would you say my father comes in here? Every day? It would be nice to have a little family reunion," I say coolly, casually looking through the papers on Father's desk to see if I can find anything else out. Making sure I move slowly so that I don't look in any hurry, I read through a couple of pieces of paper that I can find, waiting for Lila's reply.

"Well, I, ha, I mean, I'm not sure, I'm above him in the hierarchy of this system, so I don't need to know what he's up to, running little errands, you know?" she blurts quickly.

There it is again.

That glimpse of fear.

She's lying, I can tell.

"So, this isn't your room?" I question innocently, the corners of my mouth twitching into a smile.

Lila makes no eye contact with me, tossing her brown hair over her shoulder.

"No, it isn't. But I know the password because I'm above him, like I said," she says quickly.

"Oh, I see. I thought it might have been yours because this seems to be where all of the really important information goes," I prompt, having to keep my eyes on the papers that I'm looking at to stop myself from smiling. They are newspaper clippings, pages from the newspaper that shared my mother's death, and other extracts about a young girl reporting a mutant that made strange things happen around her.

It has been a moment since Lila replied so I look up to see her flustered face, struggling to find words, the glimpse of fear now evident on her face.

"Well, it is, but I-"

I step forward, papers still clutched in my hands. It looks like I was right.

"So I take it you're not in charge at all, are you?" I gloat, smiling at her being caught out.

"I am, but-"

I step closer, leering at her. She has shrunk back, glaring at me.

"In fact, I bet my father doesn't even know that you're here, does he? I bet he thinks that you're off running errands for him somewhere else, am I right?" I laugh meanly.

"You have no right to make those accusations about me! You have no idea!" Lila fumes, shouting.

I remain still, running my gloved fingers along the tops of the papers. Not batting an eyelid, I reply calmly.

"They aren't accusations if they're true."

"Look, I brought you here to get you up to speed. Do you want to go back to your cell?" she threatens.

I panic on the inside. Maybe I went a bit too far, but at least now I have an idea.

"So!" I reply, quickly changing the subject at anything but this, "what is all this research about? Why does my father need so much intel on Marinette and I?"

Lila smiles cunningly, knowing that she has managed to deflect my accusations, but she continues anyway.

"Well, he wanted to be able to extract yours and Marinette's powers, so that he- I mean... we, can harness them for his... our, own use," she explains.

I press a button on the desk.

A beep confirms all I need to hear.

I smile. Soon...

I walk back over to the desk with the boards, still intent on looking around. On the desk is a piece of paper I've never noticed before. Upon a closer look, I see that it's a map. A map of all of the cells, all of the room and hallways, including where I am now. I can also see that in each little box representing a cell, there are name of the people that are in the cells. And it looks like there have been updates.

And not so recent updates.

"What sort of use?" I reply to Lila, hoping to distract her with a question whilst I have a closer look and plan my next moves.

I scan over the map. I find the cell that has my name in it.

**Adrien Agreste**

**Marinette Dupain-Cheng**

Marinette's name has been crossed out, so I scan the rest of the map to try and find Marinette's current cell. Eventually I catch sight of it. She's down a different corridor, a new unfamiliar one which I've never been to before. I know that I need to keep the map.

"You've seen the wall," Lila begins, standing over in the right corner of the room, away from the desk and towards the mass of parchment on the wall.

I need to try and find a distraction. I look around for inspiration... aha! I leave the map spread out on the table, making sure that there is a fountain pen nearby. Holding the stack of papers I'd put down before, I cross the room to Lila and stare thoughtfully at the wall too.

"Anyone with absolute power has the ability to have one wish which will grant them whatever they want," Lila elaborates, gesturing to the picture on the wall.

"And how will he do that?" I inquire.

Lila is just about to answer when I 'accidentally' let go of the papers, which fly everywhere all over the floor. Lila gasps, glaring at me. Putting the next move of my plan into play, I take off my gloves, making Lila's eyes widen in worry.

"Argh, no, sorry!" I apologise, bending down to pick them up, "now my father will know you've been in here."

I wait for Lila's gasp of realization before moving towards the first sheet of paper with my bare hands outstretched.

"No!" she half shouts, lunging to stops me. Regaining her composure, she clears her throat.

"I mean, it's fine, I'll do it myself you imbecile. You clearly can't be trusted to do things by yourself," she snaps, irritated.

I stand up but lean towards her, hand still outstretched.

"Are you sure? I could help, I-"

"It's not necessary. You've done quite enough. Now go and stand over there where you won't be in the way," Lila reprimands, pointing to the opposite corner of the room.

I turn around and walk casually to the desk, where she can't see my gleeful smile. I wouldn't have taken Lila as so gullible, but I guess people surprise you. A tough façade, nothing more than an illusion. Her speciality.

With her occupied, picking up bits of paper whilst muttering darkly under her breath, I take the opportunity to out my gloves back on, pick up the fountain pen and mark on the map a path from the room I'm in to Marinette's room, and then another pathway from Marinette's cell to mine.

For what I have planned I'm going to need to be familiar with both.

Lila is still picking up papers, so without her noticing I carefully fold the map up until it's about the size of a post-it note, and slip it into my pocket along with the pen. I hesitate for a moment, wondering if Father will know it's missing, but I decide to go through with it anyway, because even if he does realize it will be too late. And besides, I could've taken something else that actually would have been more beneficial to me leaving. Like a key for example.

"This is ridiculous. As soon as I've finished, you're going back to the cell. You've seen enough for today," Lila fumes, nearly finished with picking up the paper.

I have just enough time to scribble two words onto a piece of paper before Lila is standing up with the pile of papers in her hands and is placing them on to the desk. It may be a stupid idea, and it might never work.

But so far, trusting Marinette is my only plan. And I really hope that it works, and she thinks along the same lines as me. Just in case I'm right, I write onto the paper.

**Absolute Power**

"Ok, now hurry, get out. It's time for you to remember your place. We're going back to your cell," Lila says, gesturing sharply for me to leave and get out.

With a click, the door slides closed and we're back in the hallway of terror again. I still feel like I'm walking through a set for a horror movie, but at least coming through it this time I am prepared for the horror that waits outside the door. As we trail back up the corridor, I can't help but imagine what this place looked like before it became so... decayed. I know that it wasn't me, which is a good thing, but I try and picture what it would look like if Marinette was able to fix it. I mean, not that she would be able to. It's not that I don't think she's capable, because I've seen what her magic does and it's the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. It's just that I doubt her body could handle what it would do to her. This hallway is extremely large, and so I think that the consequences it would have for her would be too risky to even try to repair it.

I count the doors as we walk, trying to pinpoint and recognise where the map showed that the corridor leading to Marinette's new room would be. I close my eyes, trying to picture the map, but I haven't studied it well enough yet to be able to know where it would be, so instead I count the doors, so if I ever need to get there I will know roughly where I'm going.

By the time we reach my cell, I've counted eleven doors. Lila opens the door and I hover at the entrance, weighing up whether or not I should try and run for it now and find Marinette's cell. However, I'm too late.

Catching me by surprise, I feel Lila's high heeled boot shove me in my back and I skid forwards, falling onto the floor of my cell. I groan in pain as the door slams shut with a thud behind me, and Lila's laugh echoes through the walls as she struts away.

I don't mind though. For all I care she can laugh all she wants. Because I have fooled her, stolen a map from her boss' office, found out where Marinette is, and not to mention the leverage I now have over her. But I'll only use that if I have to. So she can laugh away. I'm winning. She just doesn't realise it yet.

I realise that I'm being too cocky. I know that my part is done, but the next part of my plan all depends on Marinette. I've been so focused on getting this right, I haven't thought about it much to avoid me going into some emotional overload. But now that I can think properly, I unlock the chest of emotions inside my head, and all my thoughts that I'd pushed away throughout their way flood back into my mind. Marinette. Oh, I've let her down big time. I start to overthink, and every time I do I keep on coming back to the same questions. What if she doesn't want to see me? What if she doesn't want to come with me? I need to let her know that everything will be ok. But how to do it?

_Think, think, what to do? _

I can't go and find her right now, but maybe I can... send her a message of some sort?

I've no idea what to do at all. I need to consider my options here and think about what I can possibly do from in here, when it's just me.

Hang on.

Just me...

I look down at my hands. Maybe, if I can learn to control my powers at last, and try to condense it to maybe channelling it into single objects, maybe then I can leave a message in her cell. This is such a silly idea, and I have little to no faith that it will work, but it's worth a try.

I get the map out from my pocket and roll it out on the floor. It feels strange being in the cell and having something, a real object, rather than nothing at all. Snapping back to attention, I think about what I have to do. I know that I've got one shot with this, and this message either makes it or it doesn't. So I've got to say something that is reassuring but also lets her know what is going on. If it even gets to her.

I let out a mini scream of frustration, knowing I need to stop being so negative, otherwise this will never work. Instead I find which direction Marinette's room will be in and then I kneel in front of that wall, gloved hands still resting on the floor either side of me. Thinking about what I want to say to her, and how I can say it in a way she will hopefully put the pieces together, I close my eyes, and as I remove my gloves, I bring my hands to the floor in front of me.

With my right hand, I trace out the words I want to say, and I feel that familiar energy wanting, longing, needing, to come out of me and destroy the floor. But I focus on Marinette, that photo I saw of her in father's room, and when I'm focused, I can feel the energy stops puling inside of my arms. Still present, but not as ferocious.

I push my arms up and forward, and, feeling the rush of the energy flow from my fingers. I picture it, running through walls and under the ground as it travels to her room, and then I picture it crackling onto the floor of her cell, in a place where she can see it. All the while I have her face in my head, keeping me from destroying the world around me, pulling me back from the dark place that engulfs me when I use magic.

Stopping me from losing control.

Finished with my magic, I fall back, gathering up the last of my strength to crawl over to the mattress.

And thinking of Marinette, I fall asleep.

Hoping that it'll work.

Because it has to.


	22. Who's in the cell

***happy sigh***

**It feels soooo good to finally be back and publishing content again, and I want to thank all of you for your patience, it's truly appreciated. I've managed to get through all of my personal issues and I'm now better than ever! I've got to say how great it feels to finally being back to feeling good rather than the people who feel the need to hold me back.**

**This next chapter was kinda too easy for me to write, and so it's from a very personal place that it's written. I really hope you enjoy it, and thank you so so much for your support, it's amazing to know I have y'all.**

**Enjoy! xx **

_From the perspective of MARINETTE..._

The single hardest part of dreaming, is you have to wake up at some point.

The single hardest part of dreaming about someone you love, is you have to wake up without them.

Adrien haunts my dreams, his presence is everywhere, his words echoing around every corner as I stand in the middle of it all, trying to wake up and break the nightmare.

The problem is that the dream is amazing. The other problem is that I'm happy he's there.

In that dream, before I wake up and remember, I'm dreaming of Adrien, and his deep green eyes. Too soon however, the dream changes from a pleasant dream to a nightmare. All of a sudden, I'm being bombarded with memories: the purple van with the purple and black speckled butterfly on it; the same butterflies that used to chase me through my dreams years ago, and then finally something that I don't remember. Some sort of symbol, a round symbol with a butterfly like shape in the middle. Almost like a logo. I'm so desperate to escape the dream but there is a pull that makes me stay there. With a blinding flash of light, the logo disappears and the light morphs it into a single word.

Hawkmoth

What it means, I have no idea, but it gives me no time think, because it disappears, morphing into a purple and black butterfly. The butterfly flies swiftly at me, viciously swooping dangerously close to me. I scream, jolting up from my sleep with a start. I begin to pant, the shock of the dream making my heart race. I can't help thinking about the meaning of that word.

'Hawkmoth'.

I don't recall hearing it anywhere, so I've no idea what it means. It sounds to me like some sort of animal, maybe? But I'm still not sure.

Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I get up from my position on the cold dirty floor and walk sleepily over to the small window on my door. Looking as far up and down as I can see from my position, I try to work out if I'm in the same corridor or not. Judging by the unfamiliar corridor outside, I gather that I'm not.

Everything feels so strange, and my whole body is aching as though it hasn't been used in ages. It makes me wonder just how long I was asleep for. But at least I can move now, which is an improvement from yesterday. Anything is an improvement from yesterday actually. You could say yesterday wasn't my best day, so I'm determined that today will be better. I sigh, bracing myself for the thinking that I'm about to do. Because I know that I'm going to have to face my thoughts at some point, so it might as well be right now. It's time for me to face the past, realise that I can't do anything to change it, and focus on getting over it to move on and make things better on my own.

Because that's the way that it has to be.

It really is.

I'm not even sad or angry at him. Ok, so I'm maybe still a little bit hurt, but that's okay. At least it will drive me to forget about him.

We had a good past, most of the time. I can reminisce, but I can't stay living in those memories, and instead make more that will leave me proud that I didn't depend on him. After all, life isn't meant to be travelled backwards, it's meant to be used to excel forwards. I've got to prove it to myself that I don't need him, and I can make it on my own, because I don't depend on a boy for happiness. No. I can be happy on my own, and I'm all I need. Things are going to happen whether I like them or not, and it's my choice to decide whether or not I let them affect me.

And I choose no.

I'll get through this. I'll leave him behind, maybe not forgiving but trying to forget.

Because I'm Marinette.

And I'm going to get through this.

I comb my fingers through my hair, trying to brush out any tangles that sleeping has given. Sleeping it off was a good idea, and now I can think a lot more clearly with a calmer less emotional head.

I move over to the corner of the room, just like I would have if I was back in my other cell. I relax into the corner and survey the new room for what I think is the first proper time.

Something catches my eye. I'm not sure what it is through all of the rubble, but it looks like... no, it couldn't be. I crawl forward on my knees, brushing bits of dirt and rubble aside to try and read whatever it is that has been inscribed onto the floor. Upon a closer look I see what it is.

Words.

Sentences.

Burnt into the floor in-

No.

No way.

This is, well, it's impossible. Surely it couldn't be from Adrien? Urgh, I curse myself for thinking of him straight away, but in reality, it's the only logical option. Although for someone who claims he wants nothing to do with me, he certainly seems pretty desperate. I read the message in my head.

**M, i Will fix THis, i Have to. i lOve you, oK? A**

I scoff at the message. Does he really think it will be that easy for me to forgive him? One message filled with a promise of love and a solution and then I'm back on his side? What about everything else? All of those other confusing signals. He can't ignore me, then kiss me, then lie to me, then deceive me, and then send a message to me like this. He can be so... infuriating! So many mixed signals and sending me on a rollercoaster of emotions just to leave me hurt and wondering what any of it meant. Even though I know that I shouldn't. He clearly thinks that he knows what he wants, but really, I don't think that he does. He has no idea what it is he wants, and I can't just sit around here and wait for him to figure it out and then just be there when he's convinced himself he's got his head in the right place.

I'm so frustrated. Things will never be easy for me. But, all emotions aside, I remind myself that I'm not going let it confuse me, and I'll just have to forget about it and pretend it's not there. Although, it does have me curious. He couldn't do that before, when I was cooped up with him. His power was reckless and unpredictable. So I wonder what changed. It makes me think though. If he has other uses for his power, then what's to say that I don't? I mean, I've never tested the possibilities of what I can do because I've always been so terrified by my powers, but maybe whilst I'm in this place for having them I might as well embrace them.

If they think I'm a mutant with weird and crazy abilities.

Then that's exactly what I'll be.

Why not?

After minutes of attempting different things, I fall back to the floor in annoyance. So, it turns out that I can't write with my magic, but maybe..

I have a new idea. Gathering up lots of the pieces of the rubble in my hands, I put them all down in a little pile in front of me. Making myself comfortable in a relaxed position cross-legged on the floor, I pick up as many as I can hold in my left hand, and put my right hand over the top of it. Now that I have used my magic more, I find that it is getting more and more easy to access the magic that I need, which is a good thing. Because I've noticed my powers aren't exactly very harmful to other people. Just freaky to those without them. So I don't even struggle to get it to work, I just hold my hands over the pile of rubble and relax myself, so that I'm not even thinking anymore. A calming sensation washes over me as I feel the warmth if the light seeping from my hands. I focus on the objects in my hands, and imagine them coming together, forming one object, focusing on what I want them to become. To my surprise, they begin to move under my fingers, moulding together. I'm so shocked that it actually worked so well. I eventually stop and remove my right hand from over the top of them to see what the result is. I gasp in delight. I have managed to form one chunk of solid wood. It's cut in a pristine little wedge shape. I'm still in disbelief that I managed to do it, and I'm so proud of myself too.

It is great and everything, but I'm not exactly sure what it's going to do to help me escape. I was hoping for something more... well, helpful. Frustrated again, I throw it to the other side of the cell, where it lands on the floor with a bump.

Resting my head in my hands, I wrack my brain for some sort of plan to escape. Trying desperately to ignore the little flickering spark of hope for Adrien and I that is beginning to stir from the embers of my disappointment.

Not long afterwards, the door flies open, making me jump. I glare at Lila as she struts into the room. I flash her an obviously fake smile, but irritatingly she returns it with a cheerful greeting.

"Good morning! How are we today?" she asks brightly. It makes me want to throw up hearing the sickly sweetness of her voice.

"Actually-" I begin.

"No, I'm kidding, I really don't care," Lila interjects with a snarky tone, "are you more recharged today?"

"Yeah, I-"

"Gotcha again!" Lila laughs, pointing at me before smiling, "still don't care."

Oh, I hate this girl.

"Fine. Why are you here then?" I snap, unable to hide the irritation in my voice.

Lila pouts, hands on her hips.

"Oh, you're no fun," she huffs, still mocking me, "but ok. I thought you might like to know your precious Adrien is on our side now. He doesn't want anything to do with you anymore. He told me himself."

Lila smiles triumphantly, but now I'm even more confused. The message, the message said something different. Why can't this just be over with? I'm slowly becoming more and more doubtful.

"What h-he doesn't?" I say, voice faltering.

"Nope!" Lila relies brightly, " he even accompanied me to the research room to find out more about our plans for you."

"He did?" I reply, now unsure.

Something doesn't add up. There's something off, that doesn't quite make sense. With the message and then Adrien suddenly being against me but then finding out about what my fate is going to be, not caring about his own. If I didn't know any better, I'd say he was planning something, but then again, I've no idea what to believe coming from him anymore. So, I decide not to believe anything from anyone until I've sorted out my own judgement.

"Why would he do that? I don't understand. He wouldn't... he wouldn't get involved with that. You're lying!"

"I'm afraid I'm not, not this time anyway. He was really into it. Asking all sorts of questions about what we were doing and what would happen to you. So, I hate to break your heart, but you're wrong," she boats, leaning on the door frame and inspecting her nails.

I think it's clicked. I think I might know what he's doing. Maybe. Well, I'm not exactly sure what, but I know that he has something planned, the thought of what scares me slightly. Especially since I don't know whose side he is on right now. If he's on my side, I think the message might have something to do with it. That would explain it anyway.

Maybe he wants me to find the room, that's why Lila is so pleased about it. Because they both know that this room is important. I think there's something in there he wants me to find out. That's his plan! I make a silent promise to myself to find a way into that room. And for now, I need to act as if I'm just as clueless. I fold my arms indignantly.

"Was that it?" I ask rudely.

Lila's smile falters, as if she's not sure how this next move will play out.

"No, you'll be glad to hear it's not it at all. You have a visitor," she announces, watching my reaction with beady eyes.

I freeze. A visitor? Are we even allowed visitors? Even if we are, who would want to see me? I search Lila's face, looking for any sign as to who it could be. Adrien? Has he come to see me? My breath catches, cursing myself for hoping it's him. Or maybe it's someone else who I left behind. My heart twinges. My parents? Alya? Nino? My two dearest friends from Paris. Heart racing, I watch as the visitor enters the room.

I gasp.

It's none of them.

In fact, it's the last person I expected to walk in here.

"Hi Marinette."

I'm in utter disbelief.

"What are you doing here?!"


	23. An Unlikely Alliance

**Hey everyone! **

**I hope you are all having the best summer ever! I've been travelling a lot lately which has been amazing, but it has also meant I've not been able to get this chapter written and published. But, after defeating writers block, here it is!**

**It was great to see some of your guesses as to who the visitor is, so I'll let you see if you were right. Thank you so much for all of your follows and reviews, it means a lot and keeps me writing, so let me know what you think!**

**Enjoy!**

"What are you doing here?"

I don't know what to do. I'm surprised, yes, surprised, to see the one person who I thought I'd never see again walk through the door. Even just the sight of their face brings so many memories back in a tsunami of emotions.

I glare, furious, no, more than furious, at the door.

I'm seething.

In fact, I can feel the rage boiling from my skin. As the visitor steps further into the cell, heels clicking against the cold floor, I follow her movements very closely.

She still hasn't looked me in the eyes since she arrived here.

She's scared of me.

Ha.

Mostly out of hurt, I feel no need to be subtle with her, just extremely blunt. And I know, I know that I'm probably being mean, but to be honest, I feel like I have some right after everything that has transpired between us.

"You're scared," I point out.

She jumps at the sudden sound of my voice. Almost as if she doesn't expect me to talk. To stand up for myself.

Well, I didn't last time.

But somehow being in this cell has hardened me, and after being away and removed from the situation for so long, I can see how silly I was to let myself be bothered by her, and now she can't ruin my life any longer. Now, I'm going to fight back. And that's going to start by finding out why on earth she'd come to visit.

I turn to Lila instead of waiting for a reply. Surprisingly, she seems to know what I'm about to say, so she rolls her eyes and flicks her hair haughtily over one shoulder.

"Fine! You have 10 minutes. Then you're being locked up again and you're leaving," she huffs, turning on her heel and sweeping out of the room, slamming the door shut behind her.

Silence. Awkward silence.

You could cut the tension in here with a knife, and the longer it lasts the more I feel like the elephant in the room is sat on my body and is crushing me.

She still hasn't uttered a word, which makes me question why she's here in the first place.

"Chloe," I begin sharply. She jumps again, this time turning to face me. We're face to face and I can see her expression shaking. It's funny how roles can reverse like this. I imagine how differently this scene would have played out a few years ago.

"Why are you here?" I ask, my tone softer, not angry, just...curious this time.

The apparent change in my tone draws her attention. She clasps and unclasps her hands as she opens and closes her mouth.

"Look, Marinette," she eventually mumbles, "I wanted-"

An exasperated sigh.

"I wanted to come here to apologise. For everything."

I close my eyes, trying to think of how I want to react. It's a silly thing to do, but I'm not sure what's going on anymore. My life has just completely flipped upside down and it was all because of her and now after I'm coming to terms with everything that's happened, she comes back and wants to make peace with me?! I can't-

No. I take a deep breath. I've got to stay calm. Collected. It's the good thing to do, the decent thing to do, and right now, I can't afford to make any more enemies, so I need everyone on my side that I can.

Meeting Chloe's eyes, I steady myself, searching down deep for any kindness I can find.

But I'm only met with the painful memories.

"Why?" I ask, voice breaking, tears slipping down my cheeks. I want to know, I have to know, I have to understand.

"Why, after all of this," I pause, steadying myself, "you ruined my life Chloe. All of the things I've missed out on, because of it, because of you. What, what did I ever do to you to deserve it, huh?"

Chloe puts her hands on her hips defensively, her expression faltering as my words sink into her head. The truth is, I never knew what she was thinking. I mean, back when she got me sent to this cell I thought that there was no one as bad and as malevolent as her, but now, after being in here and facing all of the people I have, Lila, Gabriel, I begin to realise that Chloe is maybe someone who is mean to make herself feel better, and she really wants to be a good person, she just isn't sure how, and getting what she wants has always been normal to her. Hopefully now that I have this time with her, I can make her see what she did was wrong, but also try to teach her to be a better person, so more people don't end up like I have.

I have to make her understand.

She needs to learn.

"In my defence, you've got to admit your powers are freaky. No normal person is capable of that, you know that don't you? It's weird, it's- it's... unnatural, strange, terrifying," Chloe challenges, visibly exasperated.

I step forward, locking eyes with her.

"Yeah I do. But it never had anything to do with you. I never did anything to you, and yeah we might never really have seen eye to eye, but that's no reason to have this overwhelming need to make everyone else hate me too. You never knew what I might have been dealing with, and that I was trying to cope with constantly having to hide a part of myself from everyone. Because I thought that I would hurt people, that I was truly unpredictable. But I know now that I'm not. I'm not dangerous, now that I have my abilities under control, and I was just scared. Yet you still made me out to be a monster to everyone else when you don't even know me. I'm no monster Chloe," I affirm.

Opening and closing her mouth soundlessly, Chloe seems to writhe on the spot, looking for words that won't hurt her ego as much as I just have. She's not scared of me anymore, I can sense that.

No, she's not.

Now, I see something else in her eyes.

She knows I'm right, and she hates it.

"I- well – I was just trying to save everyone else. We didn't know what you'd do. For all I knew you'd go out and kill someone. You were dangerous, Dupain-Cheng. Paris didn't need someone like you. So, I did everyone a favour and got rid of the problem," she snaps, leaning forward to me.

I sigh, closing my eyes. Typical Chloe, never admitting that she is wrong, always looking for someone else to place the blame on. Irritated that she just won't relent, I scold her.

"Don't be so stubborn Chloe, you know I'm right. And you hate it that I can see right through this tough act you put on. You hate it that I know you better than you care to admit."

"You know nothing about me Dupain-Cheng. It's not true," she argues.

I smile at her.

"Then why can I see fear written across your face?" I question, relishing her shocked expression, "remember Chloe, you're not perfect either. Everyone has scars, imperfections, flaws, that's what makes them human. And the important part is, you can't just ignore them, because they make up who you are. So before you point your finger at someone else, make sure that your hands are clean. And that's what you should've done with me."

A pause. A silence. The familiar feeling hangs in the air between us, as I wait for my message to sink into the girl in front of me. I know she'll learn eventually. It will just take some time. Whether she heard my message properly I still don't know, but I guess I never will. I hope she'll come around sometime, but judging by her taken aback silence, I'm guessing that she knows what I mean.

"I- I don't know what to say. I didn't know that's what you were going through. And yeah, I'm not stupid, I know that it was a bad idea now, obviously. Everyone at school hates me because I got rid of you so don't worry Dupain-Cheng, I got my karma if that's what you care about," she huffs.

I shrug at her.

"So that's all you came to say, that you know that it was a bad idea?" I ask.

Chloe sighs sheepishly.

I know it's wrong, but I can't help liking the fact that she's so bothered by me being right. It feels amazing to have been the bigger person.

"No. No, it wasn't. I wanted to come here because I had to say... I'm sorry. Utterly sorry. And the truth is I felt really bad about what... what I did. But I hate feeling bad because Chloe Bourgeois doesn't owe anything to anyone, so I thought that if I could do something for you then I could leave this miserable place and feel better, and then I could just forget you even exist," she blurts.

Trying to digest everything she's said, I'm kinda shocked. I mean, I think... that was an apology? Well, a Chloe Apology. With her it's as good as it's going to get, I think. So, I give her my best reassuring smile.

"Apology accepted Chloe. We all make mistakes. It's our decision to right them that sets us apart from others. So, you're here because..."

"Because I want to get rid of this guilty feeling! Weren't you – don't get all high and mighty Marinette, I just want to know if there's anything I can do to make it up to you. So, is there?" she asks dryly. Obviously being this nice to someone is killing her. It actually just makes me feel bad for her.

But, her question makes me think. I mean, what can she even give me that could make my life here any better. I mean, what is she going to do, do my grocery shopping?! Ha, is there anything she can do for me, well, for starters she could get me out of-

I look thoughtfully at Chloe again. She must see the crazy look on my face because she replies with a look of dread.

"Oh no, Marinette what are you thinking, I'm not going to do something crazy, what is it?"

She's right. It's definitely crazy. My eyes flicker to the block of wood that's lying, discarded in the corner of the room, and then back to Chloe once more.

I grin. She grimaces.

"You know, there might just be something that you can do."

That spark of hope is flickering to life again.

Maybe I have an idea.

Maybe Chloe can help me with something important.

And maybe, just maybe, it will work.


	24. Game on, your move

**Hey everyone! **

**Here's another chapter for you all. I hope you enjoy it! I'm trying to get as much writing as I can done even though I'm busy, but I have another story idea coming and I was wondering if I could have your opinions on it. **

**Would y'all read a story with a kind of Princess and the Chat theme? I know lots of people have done it but I loved the idea and could put a bit of a spin on it. Let me know your thoughts!**

**Enjoy!**

"Don't you even dare lecture me Dupain-Cheng! I'm so done with you trying to be the 'good' one!"

Chloe is yelling in my face, and by the look on her face, she's had it with me and it's pretty evident now. But to be honest, it's easy for me to be really mad at her too, when I think about everything that she's done to me. Accusing me of lecturing her though? Oh please!

"Oh, trust me Chloe, I'm so done trying to be the bigger person. I give up!" I fume back.

Chloe's mouth falls open, she shakes her head at me angrily.

"Bigger person? Bigger person!? Don't patronise me! You never cared about me, you were really just scared that if you reacted too badly then I'd make an even worse fate than this befall you. Because you know that I can do that!" she shouts as she storms closer to me.

Now we're in each others faces, I can feel that something big is about to go down. She's glaring at me and I'm glaring at her and everything that has ever went wrong between us is flashing through my mind in a constant loop, and the anger is prickling the back of my neck and coating my memory in a layer of red hot frustration. This is easier than I expected.

"Oh please," I sneer, my voice scarily quiet. The kind of quiet that is more terrifying than bellowing in someone's face. That chilling, ominous quiet, the calmness of the air before the thundering storm rips through the sky.

"No! Admit it!" Chloe argues, refusing to drop it, "you know for a fact that I can snap my fingers at any moment and a fate way worse than this miserable dump would immediately come crashing down on you!"

"A fate WORSE than this?! HA! I'd like to see you even try," I seethe.

Chloe grins wickedly.

"I wouldn't say that if I were you. I'm warning you Marinette, you know who my father is, and so you know how powerful that makes me. Don't, push me," she replies, giving my shoulder a sharp push. Not so sharp that I fall, but sharp enough that I know to take her seriously.

But I'm not phased.

She thinks this is as bad as it's going to get, she has no idea what's about to come.

"Powerful," I scoff whilst stepping forwards again. We still haven't broken eye contact. I think we both know where this is going.

"I see right through you Chloe," I say, jabbing my finger at her, " you're not powerful, you're just pathetic."

Chloe opens her arms out, gesturing angrily.

"Try me and see what happens. I know you're really just scared of me, so you'll be eating your words soon enough."

I laugh in her face, "scared? Of you! There's nothing to be scared of. I could easily destroy you and this whole prison with my magic. Right here. Right now. Wanna see?"

I step back and spread my palms in front of me as if preparing to keep my word. Obviously I'm not going to, because the truth is I don't even know if I'm capable of that yet. But no one else knows that. With one look at me, Chloe runs to the cell door, throws it open and yells into the corridor.

"HELP! The psychopath is going crazy in here! She, she needs to be stopped immediately. Help! Don't you dare Marinette!"

I don't know why I don't stop her.

Well, that's a lie.

I know exactly why.

So, all I do is stand still as the world turns into a chaotic blur around me. In the next few moments, multiple things happen at once, all in a whirlwind of action.

Lila's footsteps down the hall. Slow. Quiet. Louder. Faster. Louder. Faster.

Closer and closer.

I look at Chloe. Chloe looks at me. I nod. Chloe shoves me backwards. Lila reaches the door. She gasps. I scream and throw myself at Chloe. Chloe pushes back.

We struggle. We throw insults. We throw fists. Both of us missing except from the occasional blow to the shoulder.

"What the hell is going on? Stop, both of you, right now!" Lila yells.

But we pay her no attention and instead resume our brawl. I pull Chloe's hair, she kicks me in the shin. As we fight, I'm surprised at how little I'm hurting. All of this pent up frustration and anger inside of me, it's fleeing from my body through every bruise Chloe leaves on my skin, it's escaping through every cut on my face, the scarlet anger trickling from my lip as Chloe punches me in the mouth. Lightly, but just enough so it'll cut my lip. With just the required amount of force.

"You! Make it stop or I'll get my father to shut this place down! NOW!" Chloe screeches as I push her backwards. I stand still and yell at her.

"Oh, please do!"

After about another thirty seconds of battling against each other, I'm exhausted. Being in this cell for so long, I've never been used to doing a lot of exercise, especially since I've been contained in such a small space. Gulping in oxygen, I look across at Chloe. She has a hardened, determined look in her eye, and I can sense exactly what is about to happen. Without a glance back, her legs buckle, and she collapses, crumpling to the floor.

As Lila runs forward to drag her away, I notice she seems more visibly emotional than I think I've ever seen her. Not upset emotional, but more of a panicked look. Her eyes dart back and forth from the door and she flits around Chloe at first, not entirely sure how to approach the situation. I think this is the last thing she expected to happen when she let Chloe into the cell. But now she knows what I'm capable of. Only she thinks she does. However, she really has no idea, because sometimes, things look one way when we see them, but in reality there's something entirely different going on under the surface that we don't know about. And normally I'd be feeling smug, knowing I had the upper hand for now, but judging by the black look Lila is directing at me from a few feet away, I'm not sure how much she knows about what I've done. Or what I'm doing.

With her arms under Chloe's to hold her up, she begins to drag her out of the door, but pauses in the doorway to glare at me.

"You seem a little less dumb than everyone else in here, but don't applaud yourself just yet, I know what you're trying to do. You can't really get her to shut this place down by instigating a fight with her. Don't think that you have the power to get that to happen. You don't, and it won't work. Because you don't matter, and nothing you ever do or say will. So good try Marinette, but don't play games with me," Lila seethes, unblinking. After a pause she leans forward menacingly.

"Or you'll lose."

I watch her leave, dragging Chloe behind her as the door swings closed behind them. When Lila out of sight, I can't help grinning at how she's always so sure she knows what's going on, always so sure she's the one manipulating everyone.

Poor girl.

If only she could see what was happening under the surface.

As Chloe's body trails out of the room, she lifts her foot and quickly kicks the door open behind her, giving me enough time to rush forwards and jam my wooden block in between the door and the wall, stopping it from closing properly. I stand at the door and wait, wait until I know Lila is far away and tending to Chloe, I wait until I'm sure that Chloe has properly done her job.

Honestly, I'm kind of surprised as to how well she pulled it off. I mean, some of what she said, I thought she was being serious. Our unlikely alliance went well I think. And the best thing is that Lila bought it. I knew she wasn't gullible, and the truth is, when I was first thinking about what I could do, that was the original plan I came up with, but then I knew Lila would suspect something, so I changed my idea.

And it worked.

When I'm sure Lila has gone I remove the wood and open the door, slipping out into the corridor. Now I'm free, I can have a look around and see if I can find this research room Lila was talking about. Maybe I can make sense of the message Adrien sent to me. And after that, hopefully I can find a way back.

My only concern is when Lila will come back and what will happen if she finds out I've escaped. But she was the one who challenged me to this game. And if she isn't going to play fair neither am I. She separated me from Adrien, she ruined everything between us.

She made her move. Now it's my turn.

This is one game that I'm going to win.

Because the stakes are too high for me to lose.


	25. Breaking and entering?

**Hey everyone! **

**I recently realised how long it's been since I updated, so thank you to the guest who reminded me! I have a few more chapters nearly ready, and you'll be pleased to know I've got over my writers block! I know my last few chapters haven't been great but I'm working really hard to improve my future ones! **

**I've recently gone back to school, which has been... an experience. I hope you've all had a great summer, and getting back into work/school hasn't been too rough on you! Thank you all again for reading, you're the best! **

**Enjoy!**

Sometimes memories are the worst form of torture.

And sometimes, having to relive those memories is even worse.

Unfortunately for me, walking down this corridor again brings back too many unpleasant memories of when I first arrived here, escorted by the man who I suspect is torturing the one person in my life I was close to for who knows what.

I can't help thinking how strange it is that everything is interlinked somehow. In fact, the more I think about it, the more I realise that everything is. Chloe getting me sent here means that I met Adrien and in turn learnt a lot about myself. So I suppose in some strange way, everything ends up working out for the best one way or another. However, some things can never work out well. Like being in this unnerving situation. Moving down the corridor, I become camouflaged, my body moulding into the grotesque shadows on the walls, the echo of my footsteps swallowed by the walls that are on my side, helping me slip from silhouette to silhouette without a sound. I'm passing door after door, shadow after shadow, cell after cell, and I've never felt more alive.

I am invisible.

I am stealthy.

And I am free. To some degree.

I know the truth is that I'm still trapped inside this asylum meant for crazy people, but I remind myself that I don't need to be here.

I'm not crazy.

Depending on who you ask.

So, I let my other thoughts cloud that truth, letting them all fog over it, engulfing it and sending it to the back of my mind where I won't be tempted to remind myself of it for a while. Not until I've focused on the matter at hand. My thoughts flicker to another matter entirely. I know my plan wasn't fool proof, I know that soon enough Lila is going to realise that I'm gone and have all of the guards looking for me, I know that my next move has to be figuring out where I'm going to go in the time before I can escape. I know I have two options on where I can go.

The room Adrien was tortured in.

Or the research room Lila mentioned.

I've got to be logical about this. I've got to be smart and I've got to make the right move, or else the consequences-

No, no consequences, not yet. Not ever. It won't get to that.

My guess is Gabriel will most likely be away from here, or in the chamber Adrien described being tortured in. What if Adrien is in there right now suffering whilst I'm up here dithering?

My blood turns to ice.

My heart freezes.

I'm trying to grasp logic, to hold onto rationalism, but my hands are slipping and I'm about to be torn away from them both and tumble into my own imagination, the dark place that it has become. I'm trying to hold on and not think about it, I'm trying to believe that he's going to be okay, but I'm losing focus and soon my mind is flooded with Adrien's bruised face, his scarred forearms, his gashed side.

I open my eyes, gasping.

I inhale.

Take a shaky breath.

Steadying myself, I know where I need to go, and I have an idea of where this room could be. I remember the first time I walked along here, so naïve with no idea of what was waiting for me on the other side of that cell door. Love. Loss. Friendship. Heartbreak. Pain. Joy. So much conflict. Everywhere. This place lives and breathes it; conflict oozes through every crack in the walls, tension radiates through the dim glow of every light, pain drips from the ceiling and floods the building. The very life source of this entire institution is sadness. It is what you'd find at the core of the building, that is if you were courageous enough to try to get there. I remember when I first came into the building, how I noticed that every single door was crafted from perfectly smooth wood. I remember how I found out that behind each one of those doors was another one, made from damaged iron, the complete opposite to the door in front of it. I remember thinking that it was sick of them, to try and disguise the fact that behind every door was a shell of a human imprisoned inside their own heads and shackled by the knowledge of what they had done.

Told they were monsters.

Never given hope.

But there was always one door that stood out from the rest of them. Well, it stood out by blending perfectly in. One door, one panel of wood that was chipped and scratched with age. It never bothered to conform to the perfect façade that had been painted by Gabriel, never tried to hide its raggedness from the rest of the world. Not once did it ever attempt to conceal the fact that whatever lay behind that door was something of despicable evil. So, in a way, it was almost too imperfect to seem like it mattered. In a twisted way, it is a work of a malevolent genius. Because it's so horrific, it blends in with the rest of the corridor, seeming less suspicious to other people.

Because evil blends into evil.

Now the memory of this door is standing out in my mind, so vivid I can picture it exactly. I don't know completely where I'm going to get to it, but I trust myself to find it soon.

After minutes of slinking down corridors with a non-existent sense of direction, I find myself on a corridor that I recognise. I don't know how I do; every hallway has a consistent neglected theme. I figure fear must imprint itself on our minds like a tattoo so that we are sure to never forget it.

I could never forget this place.

Unfortunately.

I run down the corridor, constantly watching over my shoulder in case I have been spotted by guards, trying to supress the noise my footsteps make as I dart towards my goal. The door within my reach, I try the handle, but as I expected, it's locked and won't budge. Scanning the lock with my eyes, I notice that there's no keyhole, just a keypad with letters on it. After inspecting all of the keys to see if there are any clues to what the password may be, I sigh in defeat.

26 letters.

26 impossible letters that have never been so defeating.

26 impossible letters that could form any word ever written in the human language since the beginning of time.

This password could be anything.

How on earth am I ever meant to figure this out?

I start to panic again, running my hands through my hair in an exasperated manor. What do I do? What do I do? To make matters ten times worse, the clatters of footsteps echo off the walls.

My heart drops to my stomach.

Someone is coming.

The footsteps are too loud, too close, too distant, too difficult to hear how close they are. The halls are too black, the lights are too dim, the walls are too close and here I am, crouched in the middle of a dilapidated doorway to who knows what. And the best part is I don't know how to get in.

The footsteps are definitely getting louder.

Maybe this was a stupid idea, the worst idea, an unreasonable idea. Maybe I shouldn't have come. Maybe I should've just stayed hidden away from the world. Maybe I shouldn't have tried to fight back. Ever.

The footsteps are getting closer.

I desperately try the handle, pulling and tugging and yanking on it, stupidly hoping that some miracle has happened and somehow opened the door. I don't know who the footsteps belong to. Lila? Gabriel? Guards? Another patient here? Each option is equally as unnerving.

The footsteps are almost here.

In an attempt to conceal myself, I press myself against the door, hoping, wishing, needing the shadows to draw me into their cloak of invisibility, to shield me from this mystery person. I press my hands firmly over my mouth to stop myself from making a sound.

The footsteps are here.

I mentally exhale a sigh of relief. Kind of. The footsteps belong to two guards, who are marching down the corridors in silence. Thankfully, since they're not looking for me, they don't expect me to be there, so they don't see me. They turn the corner a few metres in front of me, completely unaware. But as they go past, I have the opportunity to get a better look at them.

I'm pretty sure they are the two guards that first escorted me here, and upon a second glance, they seem like they are roughly my age. And although their faces are untouched by weapons and their complexion is completely without any imperfections, they seem scarred in other ways. The things they must have seen, I think to myself. The things that they must have done, must have had to do, the evil they must have witnessed, or been instructed to carry out.

It saddens me.

Innocent people. Innocent lives. Corrupted and infected by the plague that is evil so early on in life.

But they've turned the corner now, so I go back to focusing on the matter at hand. The more of this place I see, the more fuel that is added to my fire of wanting to fight back. I know now this wasn't a mistake, it was never wrong, just like I was never crazy. I'm going to find a way in here, and I'm going to win in the end, and then all of these people, people like those guards, will be set free, and the lives they have been robbed of will be returned to them at last.

I glare at the lock. The flashing keypad that is mocking me. It knows the password, it knows the secrets of what lies in the room it's protecting, and yet I have no idea. _Okay, think about this Marinette. What could the password be? _I ask myself, closing my eyes and thinking so hard it hurts my brain. Who else knows this password, who else could know what it was? Gabriel would know, he created the password, so it would have to be something related to him. I know that much. Lila, she'd know wouldn't she. After all, she is Gabriel's little lap dog, always running his errands and helping him out with his scheming. Plus, she came in here with Ad-

Of course.

Of course!

Adrien! He came in here. He must know the password. And if he wanted me to find the room, which I feel like he did, he might've tried to tell me what it was. I replay my earlier conversation with Lila in my head. But nothing she said would make any sense. In frustration, I put my head in my hands and supress my urge to scream in annoyance. He told me that he would fix everything when he sent that message, but he could have helped more than that.

Click. A piece of his plan falls into place in my head.

The message.

Click. I'm starting to understand what he wanted me to do. I close my eyes and picture his message to me. Burnt into the floor of my cell.

**M, i Will fix THis, i Have to. i lOve you, oK? A**

I always thought it was strange the way it was written, with capital letters in the middle of words. Until now, I'd just thought it was his magic being unstable and this was the best that he could do.

But it wasn't.

It wasn't at all.

Click.

Everything slots into place. I know what he was trying to tell me. Eyes still closed, I pick out all of the capital letters in my mind.

** A**

These are the letters that make up the password! This whole time, Adrien was on my side, trying to tell me how to get in here. Now, I just need to figure out what these letters could make. I arrange them in various ways, but none of them seem like a word. There's something about this jumble of letters, this handful of letters in my head, there's something that looks really familiar about them, like they're itching to switch places and form a word, like they're on the brink of being a word I've seen before. Every letter looks so familiar. I take a deep, calming breath, and instead of trying to force them to move. I just let the letters remain in my head, and slowly drift around into other positions. I feel so calm and relaxed, like it's therapeutic watching them shift into place.

But suddenly that changes.

A black and purple speckled butterfly appears in my head, swooping around the letters. It's the same one I've seen before. The same one that has haunted me in my sleep for years. I've had nightmares about this butterfly as a child, I saw it emblazoned on the van that brought me here. But most recently, I dreamt of this butterfly, in that strange nightmare. The butterfly, it flew at me, it shifted from a word to a butterfly and then swooped at me. The word.

I gasp, remembering.

I open my eyes, turning to the keypad with glee.

The word that morphed into the butterfly in my dream.

'Hawkmoth'

That's what these letters spell. That's what Adrien tried to tell me. That's what I've been missing this whole time. That's the password. Hawkmoth. Fingers shaking with concentration, I press the letter keys as quickly as I can, each one illuminating red as I do. I press the final 'H' and hold my breath, hoping I'm right.

Nothing.

Just as I begin to doubt myself again, all of the letters change from red to green, flashing once before the most miraculous thing happens.

The door swings open.

I'm right.

I opened the door!

I get to my feet and push it open further, my movements slow with caution. I've only got so much time before I'm found to be missing, and I know that then the place will be teeming with guards trying to find me.

So, I take a deep breath.

Remind myself of what I have to do.

Open the door.

And step inside.


	26. Uncovering the Truth

**Hi Everyone!**

**So, making progress has been a lot more difficult than I expected, and to anyone who is still reading, I can only apologise. **

**I want to thank DearestMrIcarus for being there for me this whole time to help me through life's drama, it really meant a lot. He's written some great stories, so definitely go and read them! **

**Anyways, I hope you're all okay too, and are excited for Christmas! Enjoy! **

I can't believe it.

I'm inside.

I'm actually inside.

Looking around the room I'm standing at the door of, I release a breath I didn't even realise I was holding. I think a part of me had no idea that I would get this far with my plan, and another part of me is surprised at myself for doing this without thinking about the consequences of it.

My eyes widen, the realization dawning on me.

Oh no.

I'm standing in the middle of Gabriel's office, having just escaped from my cell after defying every rule set in place by the owners of this place.

And I haven't stopped to think about the consequences.

My whole body is made of petrol, thoughts and worries spilling everywhere, and this realization has thrown a match into my mind and now my whole body is on fire, burning with adrenaline and roaring into action. I'm fuelled with determination, knowing that I don't have a lot of time to stand gawking at how cosy this room is.

It's the first proper room I've seen in a long, long time, it looks almost unreal, like it can't possibly be connected to the world outside of the door. It is an anomaly, an outlier, standing out from everything else in this building. Everywhere I look, all I can see is glamourous décor, expensive wallpaper, chandeliers adorned with crystal upon crystal. The splendour of it all is daunting, blinding.

Terrifying.

But nothing will put out the fire that is roaring inside of me now. I've come too far to be found out.

Jolting to life, I rush forward to the large desk at the against the back of the room, mostly because it looks like the most obvious place to put important information. There are boards at the back of it, full of pictures that I recognise my face in but don't have time to fully digest. I know that around me there must be piece upon piece of useful information and clues to what I'm doing here, but the time before I'm discovered is like a lit fuse, burning closer and closer to the bomb, able to explode and shatter everything at any moment. I need to prioritise and be quick with whatever I'm doing.

I'm about to start rifling through the stacks of papers as fast as I'm able to, but I stop, hands pausing in thought over the piles of papers on the desk.

They look like they've just been organised neatly into clear, uniform stacks, each piece of paper falling exactly into the same place, corners all meeting at the edges. Looking at them, I bite my lip. The tidiness of it all is highly intimidating, making me feel like if I so much as look at the papers then my presence in this room will be detected. It's stupid, I know, but I just need to make sure that if I move anything, anything at all, it's put back exactly where it was. Carefully, I slide pieces of paper from the tops of piles, keeping them all carefully in the order they were in before and studying them as best I can. But to my dismay most of the papers are filled with lines, and each line is filled with a neat curly scrawl. These pages must form some detailed research project, I realise. That's the only way to explain all of the writing. It would be futile to even attempt to read through some of them, so as painstaking as it is, I put them back down, determined to find something else instead. I place each paper down meticulously, the pressure beating down on me like there are a thousand pairs of eyes watching me as I do so.

When I'm satisfied all traces of my prying have been erased from the piles, my eyes dart around the rest of the desk to see if there's anything else to see.

To my surprise, there is.

One pile of papers is different from the rest, balanced precariously on the edge of the desk as though it has been hastily shoved there. There are edges of sheets poking out at every angle. Feeling slightly more at ease, I pick up a few pieces and look at them, flicking through them at speed to see if anything catches my eye.

And it does.

A smaller piece of paper.

About the size of my palm.

Ripped at the edges, like it has been torn, it grabs my attention, and I pick it out from the pile, setting the rest of the paper back down on the desk.

When I read it, I gasp.

Then smile.

It's not the contents of the note that make me so happy, not at all.

It's the handwriting. Adrien's handwriting.

It matches the font of the note he left in my cell, so I know that it was him who left it. My fire of determination rages on, igniting my mind and turning any feelings of doubt to ashes.

Adrien has been here, and he knew that I'd find a way to get here too. He left this note because he trusted that I would finish what he couldn't quite manage.

This was his plan, and I was right. I was right this whole time, about him still being on my side, about him really meaning the things he said, about him wanting just as desperately as me to escape from here. And seeing this note, seeing this note means that he wants to escape with me. I know it does. Maybe there is hope after all. And maybe things aren't as doomed as they first seemed.

Clutching the note in my hand like it's sacred, I read the two words inscribed on it again and again.

Absolute Power.

Absolute Power.

Absolute Power.

What it means I have no idea, but I do know that it's what I need to find out about.

So I search.

I look high and low, in drawers and in filing cabinets, on shelves and through wastepaper bins. Leaning back from the bin, I rest on my knees for a second and sigh defeatedly.

Nothing.

Not a thing.

I get to my feet and pace around the smaller desk in the middle of the room, wracking my brain for places I might not have searched.

Again, nothing.

I'm getting desperate for answers now. I have no idea where Adrien wants me to find anything, or what he wants me to do.

I'm running out of options now, and I'm, starting to panic more than ever. I was so delighted that I'd managed to be on the same page as Adrien and he'd had around the same plan as me, I was so happy that we were thinking along the same lines, that I could finally understand what his plan was, but I can't even manage to help him at this point.

It's no use at all.

Completely exasperated, I rest my hands on the desk and stare into the dark varnished wood, feeling the smoothness of its surface underneath my hands and the fire inside of me turning to embers. I gaze across the desk for a moment, not properly concentrating on what I'm looking at. I stare off into some of the objects on my desk, my eyes resting on intricate gold patterns on one of them. Glinting gold lines that swirl this way and that, looping under each other and through repeatedly. They draw me in, and I'm completely intrigued. Spellbound.

Looking at them more, I realise that I haven't noticed them in here as I've been snooping around the room. I snap out of my stupor and to attention, focusing in the actual object that the gold lines are on.

It's a book.

A brown book, bound in oldish leather, gilded in gold.

It's beautiful, and it's just as curious as just about everything else in this room. Being as careful as I can, I pick it up with trembling hands and flip open the cover. My eyes instantly widen in surprise.

This book isn't what I was expecting at all.

Then again, I quite know what I was hoping for.


	27. The Final Piece

**Hello! **

**Happy 2020! I hope you are all well and the new year hasn't been too bad. I'm really pleased with this next chapter, so I hope you all like as much as I do. **

**Let me know if you enjoy it!**

**Ooh, also, I wanted to say a quick thank you to Emily325 who has been reading this from the start, your reviews are always great to see! **

**Enjoy!**

As soon as I've flipped open the pages of the book, I'm intrigued. Whether it's by fascination or horror I can't decide, but I'm overcome with the need to investigate, to find out what on earth it is that I'm seeing.

I'm staring at pages upon pages of drawings, scratched onto the parchment with coloured ink. Next to each one is a series of strange symbols that have clearly been inscribed by a person. I can't read or understand them at all, and the amount of uncertainty residing inside of me because of it is scaring me. I can only imagine what any of them mean, my imagination running wild in a frenzy, creating and thinking and wondering, filling my head full of visions and possibilities that terrify me more than I'm prepared to acknowledge. I need to stop as I'm scaring myself too much, but the images have been seared into my mind's eye, and even if I press both eyes shut to block out the possibilities, they're still haunting me. Stop thinking about it, I tell myself. Don't do it. But since I don't know what the truth behind this book is, that's all I'm able to do.

A person can be afraid of many things; the dark, spiders, heights, but nothing is more terrifying than the imagination. When left to its own devices, it's capable of building entire worlds, exaggerating the things that give us nightmares, the things that chill us to the bone. When let out of its cage it's capable of making us doubt even the most secure situations in our lives to the point where we are filled with anxiety at the possibility of a situation that is purely fictional. It's capable of coaxing our darkest fears out of the shadows we have created in our minds, and installing them into our thoughts, in made up situations that we have concocted ourselves. Our imagination can wander, thinking into everything too much, it can come up with ridiculous outcomes, under the disguise as a scene that has the potential to happen.

And we believe it.

Because we're the ones thinking it.

So as much as I try to stall it, stifle it, stop it, my imagination refuses to die down and keeps wondering what these sketches are, and what they could mean for my future here. What could they have to do with Gabriel's plan? I have a closer look at the drawings.

On one page there is a picture of a woman in a red outfit, speckled with black polka-dots. The patterns on her outfit kind of remind me of the ladybirds that I used to conjure up back in my old cell. Huh. That was quite a while ago now, in fact, it's been ages since I've done anything like that. Back then, my mind was an empty vessel, filled with the same actions of the same routine that amounted to absolutely nothing, my body was a system made of organs that sat like clockwork and breathed in and out but with no purpose, no human inside, so of course I had nothing to do all day other than sit and look at ladybirds. But after transferring here, I have been busy each day with my thoughts, just as I used to be. I've been ensnared by my own little bubble of emotions, contemplating and weighing up possible plots that Gabriel might have come up with, desperately trying to figure out where I stand with Adrien. I've been so wrapped up in discovering the new tasks I am capable of with my powers. Casting my mind back, I realise that it was back then that I had no idea to what extent my magic would work. Compare that to how much I know about my own abilities now! How dramatically things can change in the shortest amounts of time.

I carefully turn the page to see another drawing of a man in a black suit, two black cat ears perched on top of his head and a gleaming silver baton in one of his hands. Around his other hand is what resembles a crackly black forcefield, pulsing and bursting from his fingers and forming a sphere around his whole hand. Surely it must be magic of some sort. I'm instantly transported back to when I first walked into my cell, and how destroyed everything was. I remember being so terrified, thinking that I was going to be killed by the person I was staying with. Recalling my initial reaction to being locked up with Adrien, I'm sudden burning with shame at how quickly I judged him. Shame so bad it burns my whole body, reducing me to black ashes of regret. One small fact from his past that had been twisted and made to seem a lot more black and white than it truly was allowed me to make my mind up on how I was going to act around him. When really it was more of a lie than it was truth.

I flick through more and more pages of similar designs; there's a woman in an orange and white fox suit, a girl dressed in bee themed attire, a boy wearing a bright green turtle themed suit with a large disk in a similar theme under one arm, and a woman wearing a long blue cape with a frill of peacock feathers around the bottom of her long, blue suit. Each one looks extremely detailed and well thought out, as if they have all been well tested and developed over time. Well, that is if this grimoire is as old as I suspect. I sense that the next few pages are going to be along the same lines, so I flick a few pages forward until the book settles and the pages stop flipping. I gape at the drawing etched into the parchment, trying to work out what I'm seeing.

It's a picture that I've seen before.

A picture that looks vaguely familiar, like it has already been pasted onto my brain and pressed there until it remains. It's so familiar, almost as if the place I know it from is on the tip of my tongue, the truth just about to slip through my lips and spill out of my mouth. I pace back and forth in front of the desk again, trying to remember where I've seen this before. Why can I remember every horrible thing that anyone has ever said to me, and yet this particular detail slips my mind? Typical if you ask me.

I look up, suddenly.

I remember.

I'm staring right at it.

I'm staring into its eyes.

The power hungry, dark, gaping, blazing, bottomless eyes that are staring right at me, piercing my ribcage and peering into my soul. It's a terrifying picture hung so large on the wall, every overpowering detail so large and exaggerated that it makes my skin crawl just looking at it. This must be it. This must be the ultimate power that Adrien was talking about. This must be what Gabriel is after.

It has to be.

Nobody can do something so sick, so twisted and malevolent, imprisoning so many people and condemning others to miserable fates for no reason at all. Not even someone like Gabriel, whose seems to smile at the chaos that seems to happen around him, whose eyes seem to sparkle every time someone is brought for torture for no apparent reason. Not even someone that bad could have no reason, no fuel, no motive at all for doing this.

There must be something in it for him. Surely there is something he wants, and something that he needs to get from all of this. Something related to ultimate power.

Something doesn't add up. I've found quite a lot of information, or at least I think that I have, and it feels like everything is going right, but it's also all wrong. It doesn't make sense. Why would he do this, to become like that? To have this absolute power? And then what? What could he possibly do with all of that power that would end well?

I'm standing in the middle of his office, grasping desperately at straws, thousands upon thousands of mismatched jigsaw pieces littering the place in mountains, they're everywhere, and I've got handfuls, fistfuls, pocketsful of pieces. If I put them all together, they would form the whole picture, everything would fall into place and I'd finally be able to step back and have a look at the bigger picture, Gabriel's plan becoming as clear as day.

But I'm stuck.

None of the pieces will fit into place. They're all backwards, broken, distorted, upside down. I'm stood with fistfuls of jigsaw pieces clutched in my hands, not knowing what goes where, only managing to put a few pieces together at a time. I've got leads and reasons but none of them seem to match, solutions and reasons are everywhere, overwhelming and all consuming, as if they're about to break and collapse on me at any moment. Nothing is linked together and everything seems random and pointless. I'm not sure if I'll ever figure it out.

There's something I don't know.

The final piece that will link everything together.

It's hidden somewhere, buried so that I'll never find it even if I have all of the time in the world. Which I don't.

I feel like it's right here, right in front of me and I'm just too blind to see it.

Unless... unless he wants this absolute power, unless this ultimate power is what he wants. I just have no idea why or how he'd get it, that's the problem.

I'm struck by an idea. When I was younger, I used to love reading mystery novels, stories about secret missions to rescue people and tales of crime and how the detective would somehow uncover the secrets of the villain. In those stories there would always be some secret passageway, some secret room that's hidden completely from view. Maybe...

I move forward to get closer to the picture on the walls, thinking there could be a secret switch or button hidden in them. I'm so wrapped up in my own fantasy of feeling like I'm part of one of those stories, I completely misjudge where I'm standing and stub my toe on the foot on the desk.

I wince in pain and clutch my foot, teeth clenched.

Then I do that thing, that thing that everyone does. If you trip and fall over, or stub your toe, you glare at the object that you bumped into. You kind of just stare it out and curse it for just, well, being there. We all do it, it's just a thing that we do. I glare at the corner of the desk, and notice a piece of paper I must have dropped whilst rifling through the pages of the book before. Going to pick it up, I bend down and as I stand again, trying to ignore the agony my toe is in off that stupid desk, I look at what is on the paper.

Now, I just expected it to be a bit of paper I'd seen before, an unhelpful one with writing covering the whole page.

But it isn't.

It isn't at all.

I tighten my grip around it, clutching it tightly in my hand, in disbelief at what I've just found.

This, this is the final piece.

My brain is swimming with knowledge, too much of it. Things I wish I didn't know, things I don't want to know, things I hate that I know. I know too much, too much, too much.

Now that I've put the final piece into place, I can see the links. Hear them all clicking into place. Feel the dots being joined right before me, the pieces locking together and sliding to where they're meant to be in front of me. I understand now, and so many more things make sense. Knowledge reaches behind me and unties the blindfold of ignorance that I had wrapped over my eyes, exposing me to a world of realisation.

I know why I'm here. I know why I was put in a cell with Adrien, I know what this absolute power is meant to achieve. I know why Adrien was being tortured.

I understand how Gabriel needs to get absolute power.

And now that I do, I'm sure of one thing more than I ever have been in my entire life. I'm so sure of it that it centres me, a new form of gravity so intense that it is my anchor, my stability that keeps my mind from caving in at this realisation.

Adrien and I need to get out of here.

Quickly.

Because we're the solution to every one of Gabriel's problems. And he's going to use us.

No matter what the consequences.


	28. Adrenaline Rush

**Hi everyone! **

**Happy March! **

**I have literally just finished writing this chapter which was so intense, however I was listening to the soundtrack to Teen Wolf whilst I did so I was fired up (any Teen Wolf fans reading? If so PLEASE tell me, I need to talk to someone else who loves it too haha!) **

**But anyways, I'm pleased I can get you this chapter before my exams start (again!). So as always, I hope you enjoy, I hope you are all well and please let me know if you liked it. **

**Enjoy! **

I need to get out of here.

I need to escape.

Now.

I put the piece of paper back where I found it, alarm rising rapidly inside of me, clutching my throat with its red hot iron fist and crushing it until I can't breathe.

As quickly as I can, I turn around to leave, so that hopefully I can get back to my cell before anyone finds me here. I'm still slightly in shock that I haven't yet been caught, but at the same time, I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop. I feel like someone is waiting just around the corner, filling me with the false belief that I've succeeded with my part of their plan before they shackle me again and drag me back to my eternal prison, filled with a new routine of danger and uncertainty. I hurry back over to the desk at the back of the room to make sure I've left everything in its rightful place before I leave. There's no harm in checking again. I turn around, about to head for the door, when a beeping noise makes me freeze, blood running cold.

Beeping.

Keys on the keypad. Beeping.

I'm frozen still, blood turning to ice, limbs locking in place. My heart is the only thing moving, beating, pounding, thundering against my ribcage, telling me something is wrong, trying to tell me to move forward, to move at all.

Someone is coming.

Gabriel? Lila? Guards? Something, someone worse than them? They're going to find me, and then they're going to kill me and drain my powers for-

I need to move. Now.

Doing the only thing I think I can in this moment, I dive behind the desk in the middle of the room, and wait, trying not to make any noise so I can hear the person enter the room.

One louder beep. One click, the door unlocking. One creak as it swings open.

I press myself against the back of the desk, praying that I'm hidden from view. The most unnerving thing about this whole situation is the fact that I can hear...

...nothing.

It's deathly silent.

The door has been swung open but I don't hear anyone there. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end and I'm terrified for my life. The silence is making me paranoid, so paranoid that I want to scream just to fill the empty air, because I'm worried, worried that I've missed something, adamant that I've been spotted, completely unaware of the whereabouts of the other person in this room with me. They could be anywhere, everywhere, watching me closely as they lie in wait ready to attack. They could be nowhere, stood, unaware, right above my head as I quiver underneath this desk. This desk is quite possibly the only barrier between myself and certain death. Which, as you can imagine, isn't a terrifying thought at all.

I listen again. Still, nothing.

Silence.

Silence...

Silence...

In the next few seconds, there's a flurry of action and I'm not prepared for any of it.

Quick footsteps are pacing back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, and right in front of where I am hiding behind the desk, there's an exasperated sigh that I can't connect to a person. I clasp my hands over my mouth to stop my breaths escaping and getting me caught. I focus on the sigh, the exasperated noises the person is making, my brain listening with mind-numbing intent. If I can just figure out who-

"Dammit Agreste, I swear if you've-"

Another sigh.

I force myself to swallow. To do something.

Lila.

Definitely her.

I need to leave, and so my mind jumps into action, thinking and thinking and formulating a plan of escape, all the time mindful of Lila's position in the room. But I have absolutely no idea what to do.

There's those moments in life, when the world just stops around you.

When the world has been coated in honey and moves slowly around you as you try to see what's going on but all you can see is colours and shapes and blurs and you're trying to think, to grasp some concept of reality but nothing is working and everything is moving so slowly, and all you want to do is think but it's so hard, too hard.

Why is it so hard to think?!

Calm down, I chant inside my head. Calm down and don't lose it completely.

Just think.

My mind is alive, my senses are on fire and yet my body won't move, so I'm stuck here. And I'm forced to listen to Lila's movements as she begins rooting around, looking for something I assume. After a few moments I hear her press a small something that omits a single long beeping noise.

Then, as noise starts to fill the air, she goes completely silent. Deathly silent.

I realise that what we're both listening to is some sort of voice recording. I immediately recognise Adrien's voice, calm with an inquisitive tone.

"What is all this research about? Why does my father need so much intel on Marinette and I?"

A small pause. I've never tried to listen so intensely in my entire life. Lila's slow drawl that makes me want to punch her is so sure of itself when it replies to him.

"Well, he wanted to be able to extract yours and Marinette's powers, so that he- I mean... we, can harness them for his... our, own use," she explains to him.

As the recording beeps to signal its end, there's a moment where no one makes any noise. I don't, obviously. But Lila is chillingly quiet. I can't even hear her breaths, and it sends a shiver like an electric shock rocketing down my spine, because I have no idea where she is or what she's thinking.

But hey, you know what? Maybe there's a new silver lining in this! You know? Maybe, maybe she's unable to move, or she can't speak, or maybe her vocals have just fallen onto the floor so she's useless! All great alternatives! This silence has no downfall! She'd be unable to get to me and I could just run on past!

But then she SLAMS on the desk in rage, slaughtering the silence in one swoop and my entire body jolts from the sudden shock. Yep... I realise very quickly that I was very wrong. As I try desperately to steady my breath as quietly as humanly possible, I can hear Lila cursing under her breath, something about if anyone hears the recording and why was she so naïve, and I caught a few words of the sentence of how could she let herself be fooled by a handsome face.

I raise my eyebrows at the surprising piece of information. Oh! So Lila had feelings for Adrien? The more I think about it, the more I realise that I'd never seen that coming. Most situations have unexpected plot twists I know, but even this is too much for me to handle. I mean, she tortured him, how could she like him? Well, tough love I guess.

With no more time to think about it, I decide I'll amuse myself with that ridiculous notion later. If I make it out of this room unescorted with a knife to my throat that is. I'll probably find it much less funny then.

Lila is rushing around the room again like she's incapable of standing still. Clearly in a flap, she doesn't even seem to pause to take a breath.

I narrow my eyes, focusing. Now is a better opportunity than ever. It's going to have to be in this moment that I do whatever it is I'm planning on doing. Which at this point looks like is going to be just running for it. But I think if she's distracted enough it should be easy enough for me to slip out without her seeing me.

So I kneel up ever so slowly so I'm balancing on the balls of my feet and spread my hands out on the floor so I can easily move. Inhaling as steadily as possible, I become completely alert, suddenly aware of every cell in my body and its position as I slink around the corner of the desk, the small of my back still very much glued to the polished oak surface. I'm barely just edging around the corner of the desk and I know that Lila is behind me on the other side. Beads of sweat are coating every pore as I concentrate with intense effort to maintain calm whilst also calming my shaking hands.

The door is in front of me.

Directly in front of me, maybe a few paces at a run, so close just miles away. My stomach is an acrobat, flipping and twirling and churning to the point where I'm terrified I might be in danger of throwing up the meagre contents of my stomach. But I've got to get out of here at some point, this has gone on for long enough.

So here I am, I'm perched on the tips of my toes, fingers steadying me as they spread across the floor, arms quivering, begging myself not to give myself away, not to by typical, clumsy Marinette for five minutes and to not get killed. It's the least I can do.

I grit my teeth.

Block out the sound of my heartbeat which is now so loud it's starting to sound like a large battle drum, marching the time further and further towards the war that I'm about to start. I fix my eyes firmly on the door, the door that has been left slightly ajar so it doesn't create too much noise as Lila leaves. The sound of her pacing behind me is in the forefront of my mind, the only sound I want to keep hearing in these next few moments. Keeping my eyes locked on the door, staring with such commitment that I make myself go dizzy, but that only fuels me to go on. Right now, I've got that old feeling back, the feeling like adrenaline has set my entire frame on fire, like I'm coated in flames of will power that make me jolt upwards and into action. My head is filled with noise but silence at the same time, like my thoughts are both here and non-existent as every sensation in my body is alive but numb.

I am an oxymoron.

My limbs are fired up but frozen in place.

My eyes are set on my goal but are hazy and blurring.

My mind is ready to go but not prepared for the consequences.

My heart is hammering, thundering, clamouring, screaming but my head is telling me to go for it.

To go now.

My head is telling me, imploring me, begging me...

...to run

Swallowing back the doubt and fear, I lift my hands off the floor, gritting my teeth so tight I feel like I might shatter all of them.

This is happening.

This is happening right now.

The world is back in its familiar state of slow motion and I lift myself up so slowly I haven't even convinced myself that I'm moving.

Despite the storm that is raging inside of my skull, I turn my head to see Lila, who thank goodness isn't facing my way. She hasn't heard my movements, hasn't detected my presence.

Yet.

And then, I close my eyes, feel them open, now seeing the door, my goal, my chance at freedom, the way out, in a whole other way. I glare at it, readying myself for what's about to come next. Feed my brain another shot of adrenaline and that fire I've always loved to feel.

I start to move. Eyes are locked on the door, ears are locked on the footsteps, heart is gradually beating faster, faster, faster, faster, quicker quicker quicker quicker as I stand up up up up up listening more and more and more and more, hands shaking, soul on fire, gut wrenching, brain screaming, telling me to go go go go go.

Telling me to run.

So that's exactly what I do.


	29. Run Marinette, Run

**Hey everyone! I hope you are all staying safe and are managing to keep spirits up in these crazy times. **

**As many of you may realise after reading this, the next chapter is crucial and so if it takes me a little bit longer to post it it's because I want to work hard on making it as perfect as possible for you all.**

**I hope you like this chapter, let me know what you think! **

**Stay safe and stay happy everyone! **

I run.

And run.

I run faster than I've ever ran before, faster than the speed of light, faster and faster and faster through the halls that I've grown accustomed to being dragged through. I don't know if they're behind me. I don't know if I've even been noticed at all.

But there's no way on earth that I'm going to stop to find out. Because I'm going to keep on running, hair whipping around my neck, legs pounding against the harsh floor of rubble. My heart is screaming, tiredness is chasing me, trying to get in, trying to work its way into my muscles, flinging fatigue at me until my legs are like weights, long pale burdens that are trying to stop me, slow me, delay me.

Kill me.

But no one is ever going to stop me from running. Not until my lungs are empty and drained completely of oxygen, not until my legs are broken and splintered, not until my heart is shattered and until my spirit is broken, my determination is destroyed, my hope obliterated. Not until I've breathed my very last breath of air.

I now know more than I did before. Everything is beginning to make sense and I can feel it, I can feel the atmosphere in this building is on edge. Almost like it's waiting for something. Walls taut with tension, doors frozen and lying in wait, in suspense. The whole place seems to understand that this something, whatever it is, is coming to a climax, we can all feel it building up slowly, slowly, slowly, just slowly reaching the peak of the track until eventually someone will move and we're all going to ride this twisted rollercoaster right over the edge, and that one movement, that one movement will set everything into motion. And down we'll all go into the darkness.

I feel like I'm running into the darkness now. My feet are pounding down the corridors and I'm charging through halls that stare with familiar eyes but I'm not paying any attention to what is around me. My gaze is firmly locked forward, staring straight ahead of me, my vision taking a backseat as I focus all of my energy, every last drop, onto not stopping. I think I can hear shouts resonating in the distance some way behind me, then footsteps chasing me, but maybe it's only my own paranoia that's haunting me through this building. I certainly hope so.

Fighting the urge to look back, I keep going, arms pumping as if they will propel me further faster. I barrel round the corner, completely frantic, the feeling of not being able to stop making my vision haze. Not being used to this level of exercise for so long making the burn even worse. I wish with every fibre of my being that I had the strength to just run and run forever, and keep running right out of these doors and never head back, never even turn around to see the last glimpses of the life I broke free from as it fades away behind me, but I know that I have a responsibility to do something, and if I can help, I will, I have to.

I'm Marinette.

And whether it works or not, I know I have to do everything I can to change this warped reality.

That means even though my muscles are yelling and my head is banging and my heart is thudding as it tries to keep beating steadily, I have to move faster. The panic, however, is nearly too much, and I can't help the tears that spill from my eyes as I move on, mingling with the beads of sweat that drip from my forehead, so I have to know. I need to know. It becomes the only thing that I know I have to do, and though I know I shouldn't, I'm too weak, too limp, my mind too numb and useless to fight the urge to check if I'm being followed. I turn my head, no idea what I will be faced with when I do.

And I check.

And I see-

No one.

Nothing.

My heart jumps, my world spins as my emotions seems to start working again, my whole body jolting as if it has just been switched on again, the power started and my limbs are spurring to life. The relief liberates me, it releases the weighs in my legs so I'm free, it coaxes the thuds of my heart to calm so I can think again, it fights of the vulture of fatigue that was circling me and blocking out the oxygen, so certain I wouldn't be able to survive. Closing my eyes tight, I gasp in and out, swallowing air as my chest heaves violently and my paces slow down. I still can't properly organise my thoughts as the escape seems to have jumbled them all up, tears blurring my eyes so I can't see them clearly and I'm too exhausted try and feel anything, so instead I take on an unnerving sense of calm, a sudden spotlight breaking through the blurry haze and shining on my only purpose at this moment, to create some form of concrete plan.

I know that this, this is the moment. I have some more time than I expected, and although I might be playing right into the hands of Gabriel and Lila I just need to do the next right thing and focus without stopping to acknowledge the panic in my head. I need somewhere to hide and recuperate so I can at last figure out how to fight to end this. But whether it's from dizziness or terror, there's a pit at the bottom of my stomach, a vast, bottomless, ominous pit, and I know whatever I'm going to do, I'm going to have to do it quickly. Jumping on impulse, I start again, moving quickly down the halls lined with doors. I'm crazy to think I can find the cell I escaped from, because as well as it being the first place they'd check, my sense of direction has been thrown and the inner compass that guided me is broken and the needle has snapped so now I'm lost, feeble, a rabbit in a sea of doors, a rabbit that was once insignificant but now is being hunted down by predators everywhere it looks. And time is ticking, ticking, leaving, just like I must too, and so I know one of these doors must let me escape Wonderland and find solace.

So I try them all.

Every door I pass, I put my hand to the handle and rattle it with desperate intensity, panic welling up with every door that doesn't open, every lock I'm faced with the more desperate I get.

Moving further down the corridor, my head is practically spinning as I turn it left and right, my mind blacking out at the smallest noises, knowing that any moment they could arrive, and all I need to do is find a door that opens. All my life, I've been searching for a door to open, for someone to finally let me in, but will I ever find it?

More handles. It's all too much. I rattle every one. I can't do this. I tug on the handles, yanking and yanking, trying not to think of the footsteps, what if there are footsteps and when will there be footsteps and when will someone let me in and I need to stop overthinking and I need to stop panicking and I need my forehead to stop dripping and my heart to stop hammering just for a second and the world to stop spinning and

someone to PLEASE OPEN A DOOR.

I stop. Press my eyes shut and breathe. In and out. In and out. Let the world slowly come back into focus once more. This is too much for someone like me to handle. No one should ever be put under this kind of stress, and a mind like mine is too small for these thoughts that push against it, willing it to expand when it just doesn't know how. But not now.

As quick as my legs are able, I push on, eyes now scanning every door, ears scanning round every corner for those dreaded footsteps.

Nothing...

Nothing...

Something. Something. A very real something, a definite something, multiple somethings, all coming into view and earshot at once. A door, a door that's open, footsteps, running, heavy footsteps. A door, that's only a few feet away, footsteps, that are only a few feet away, a door, that's gradually getting closer, footsteps, that are gradually getting closer.

Terror, truth, hope, fear, worry, possibility, are all but warped reflections in this funhouse that is my mind as it melts in the heat of the pressure, none the same, none different, all equally as futile. I need to act, and fast, as time is the one thing that hasn't stopped.

I make my choice of what to do in the next three seconds.

I dive, dive right into the cell, shutting the door tightly behind me, exhaling as it clicks into place, letting me know that now I have a chance.

Now all I can do is rest here, gather my thoughts and determine what to do next. Hoping all the while that things will be okay. Because surely, if it's not okay, it's not the end, right? At least I'm here, I'm okay, and I'm-

Not alone.

I forgot there would be a cellmate. Why is there always a cellmate?

The thought of being imprisoned with another murderer who is probably cold and heartless and mean and ruthless and cruel and bloodthirsty and...

Blond. He's blond.

And that is what makes my heart stop beating.


End file.
